Under Fire

by Jamie Denton

  Jana snuggled against him, her head resting against his shoulder. God, he really could get used to this, he thought. Too bad it’d never last. Once she caught on that he could be as much of a bastard as his old man, all that would be left would be a vapor trail as she raced for the door.

  “After she died, the guilt ate at him. He tried to avoid it by diving into a bottle of gin, but it didn’t help. He’d rant and rave, or mumble to himself in a stupor. Once he told me that God took her because she chose her career over her children.”

  “Oh, Ben,” she gasped. Her arm tightened around his waist. “That’s an awful thing to say to a child. My parents argued, but they never brought us into their disagreements. I just can’t imagine—”

  “What it’d be like?” When she nodded, he said, “It was rough on all of us, I won’t deny that. I tried to keep the worst of it away from my brothers, especially when the old man would start drinking around the clock.”

  She tipped her head back to look at him. “You were only ten years old.” Compassion filled her eyes. “How much did you really think you were capable of at that age?”

  More than she’d ever know. He’d done things he wasn’t particularly proud of to protect Cale and Drew. He hadn’t practiced in a very long while, but he’d be willing to bet he could still flawlessly forge the old man’s signature. He’d written checks and signed his father’s name to keep the utility companies from disconnecting services and to deposit the payments from his mom’s life insurance. He’d signed report cards and field-trip permission slips for himself and his brothers. The birth of automated tellers made it even easier for him to get cash so he wouldn’t run the risk of getting busted. Those days hardly qualified as his best moments, but he’d done whatever was necessary to make sure they’d survived.

  “I kept my brothers safe,” he told her, suddenly way too anxious to change the subject for someone claiming he’d moved on and didn’t dwell on the past. “Why are we discussing ancient history when there are so many more interesting things we could be doing?”

  Memory lane held too many potholes. One wrong turn and the results could be as jarring as the realization that he’d willingly taken Jana down a path no other woman had ever traveled with him.

  She looked at him, a seductive smile slowly curving her lips. “What’d you have in mind?”

  He welcomed the diversion by urging her onto his lap. Without an ounce of hesitation, she straddled his hips. His body instantly responded. “Didn’t you say something about dessert?”

  The sound of her laughter did wonders in keeping the demons locked inside the closet where they belonged. No, he amended. There weren’t any demons. He’d slain those dragons years ago. Hadn’t he?

  “Excuse me,” she said, “but I seem to recall we’ve already had that dessert. A couple of servings, too.”

  He reached behind her, wrapped his hands in the silky strands of her hair, then gently tipped her head backward to expose her throat. “Appetizers,” he said, then lowered his head to taste her satiny skin. Her breathy sigh heated his blood. Would he ever get enough of this woman? He was beginning to think not in a hundred years.

  Her sultry moan coalesced with the sound of the tones from his beeper sounding off. He lifted his head and picked up his pager to read the lighted message. Multiple MVA with rollover and fire.

  He had Jana off his lap before checking the location. “I’ve got to go,” he said, turning on the bedside lamp to search for his briefs.

  “Now?”

  He scooped up his briefs, ignoring the disappointment in Jana’s voice. He snagged his jeans, yanked them on and headed to the closet for a shirt.

  The sheets rustled and the springs squeaked as she slipped from the bed. “Aren’t you off duty?”

  He grabbed the first shirt his fingers touched and tugged it over his head. “They’re going to need me out there. I have to go.” He fastened up his jeans and yanked open the drawer holding his socks. “Stay here and catch some sleep.”

  She picked up his boots and handed them to him. “I won’t be here when you get back.”

  He glanced up, expecting to see displeasure in her eyes although he hadn’t caught so much as a hint of censure in her voice. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he said impatiently, unwilling to buy into whatever guilt trip she planned to lay on him just because he was leaving her to do his job.

  “It’s already past midnight and I have a flight to catch in a few hours. My bag is already in the car. I’ll be home Sunday around noon.”

  He stood and walked to the nightstand for his pager. “Where are you going?” he asked, more out of courtesy than any deep, burning desire to know her whereabouts. His mind was already on the possible complications he’d be facing once he reached the scene.

  “Carmel for a weekend seminar.”

  He nodded absently and shrugged into his jacket. The words weekend and seminar penetrated as he started for the door.

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

  Impatience nipped at him as he turned to face her. Didn’t she realize he needed to hurry?

  She held his keys in the palm of her hand, a gentle smile on her face as she walked toward him. “You might need these.”

  He let out a breath of impatience. “Thanks. I’ll call you later.”

  Without waiting for a reply, he was out the door, adrenaline pumping through his veins.

  12

  THE EARLY STORMS hammering the California coastline hadn’t eased in two days, keeping all but the most die-hard tourists at bay. The quaint seaside shopping village had been reduced to a virtual ghost town. Since spending time on the white-sand beaches was now out of the question due to the inclement weather, Jana spent the afternoon wandering from shop to shop in Carmel’s quiet downtown district.

  The occupational safety seminar had actually been quite informative. How could a weekend possibly be a total loss when she’d not only expanded her knowledge, but even lucked out by managing some early Christmas shopping? Unearthing an artist’s print Chloe had mentioned she’d wanted for her office, and a beautiful set of antique crystal candleholders for Lauren almost made Jana’s decision to remain for the weekend worthwhile.

  She paid the clerk for the cappuccino and biscotti she’d ordered and carried them to the small table near the window to watch the rain. Awnings and overhangs from the buildings would’ve kept her relatively dry on the walk back to the hotel, but the wind had picked up again so she’d darted into the coffeehouse to wait out the sudden cloudburst.

  She set her packages on one of the spare chairs, shrugged out of her coat and pulled her cell phone out of her purse to check her voice mail. Two messages waiting. She smiled at the excitement in Lauren’s voice as her friend bubbled with the news that she’d been offered the female voice lead in the animated feature.

  The other message was from her father, calling to confirm her attendance at the private screening of his newest documentary. Actually, it was her father’s assistant who’d called, but to Jana, they were one and the same. She knew she needed to RSVP, but she hadn’t made a decision about attending what would be the standard, over-the-top affair. An intimate gathering of family and friends, the formal invitation had stated. Her father’s concept of intimate was anything less than forty industry professionals. Family was a definite afterthought.

  The invitation had also stated she could bring a guest. Would Ben be interested in going with her? Without his pager?

  She checked for text messages, but there were none. The sting of disappointment pierced her. Ben hadn’t called as promised. After slipping her cell phone back into her bag, she took a tentative sip of cappuccino. She’d left her cell-phone number and the number of the hotel taped to his pillow before heading out for the airport before dawn Friday morning, but she hadn’t heard a word from him. With the bad weather and probably dozens of traffic accidents and other emergencies, she assumed he’d be incredibly busy, and no doubt exhausted until the storms ended.

>   Logically, she understood. Emotionally, she worried. Not just about him and the dangers he could be facing, but also about their relationship. How on earth had she fallen so completely in love with him in so short a time?

  A lot of reasons, she thought, and not all of them involved the bedroom. From her initial interviews with the men on his team, she’d been left with the impression Ben could be rather cold and detached at times. Efficient and in control, yes, she’d found, but never cold or detached. At least he hadn’t been with her. When he wasn’t behaving like a bullheaded moron insistent on getting his way, warm, kind and incredibly passionate were more apt descriptions she’d apply to his personality. He had an adorable sense of humor and made her laugh—often. There was a gentleness about him that drew her to him, as well. Combine all those traits with his deep respect for others around him, and all in all, there wasn’t much about Ben not to love.

  Still, she harbored reservations. One in particular.

  On two separate occasions, he’d run out on her because his beeper had gone off. If he’d been on call, she might not be concerned, but he’d been off duty both times. Was she being selfish, or did she have cause for alarm?

  Ben’s job was important, that she couldn’t deny. He saved lives. The men he worked with, the victims he helped save, depended on him. Unlike her workaholic father, Ben wasn’t halfway around the world on location for months at a time, never giving his family a second thought. What Ben did mattered. Or could he be even more obsessed with his work than her father was, just in a different way?

  Unsure of the answer, she dipped the edge of biscotti in her cappuccino to soften it. The one constant in her life had always been her mother. She hadn’t exactly been a PTA, cookie-baking type of mom, but no event in the lives of her four daughters had ever been insignificant to her. All Jana had ever gotten out of her father by way of attention had been a string of gifts she suspected were actually from her mother to make up for his disinterest. The way Ben had taken care of his brothers told Jana family meant a great deal to him.

  If she’d learned anything from her childhood, it was what she didn’t want, and that was to be a single parent in a two-parent household. As a kid, she’d mistakenly assumed unwarranted blame for her dad’s long absences and indifference. Her moment of profound realization had come in high school when she and Lauren had met Chloe Montgomery.

  Chloe had transferred to Beverly Hills High School from Atlanta, Georgia, when her family had relocated to California because her dad had been hired by a high-powered law firm to head up its entertainment-law division. Chloe’s childhood was logistically similar to Jana’s and Lauren’s, except their new friend had developed a more pragmatic approach toward her absent father than either Jana or Lauren had. In Chloe’s opinion, constantly being disappointed because the person you kept trying to set on a pedestal always fell was a waste of energy. Accepting the reality that people in general were severely flawed was a much healthier response. Life was not a thirty-minute sitcom, she’d say.

  Jana hadn’t completely bought into the “severely flawed” aspect of Chloe’s philosophy, but she’d definitely decided to stop wasting energy on a lost cause. The only way she’d put an end to the cycle would be if she stopped wanting her father to be something he simply wasn’t capable of being. Either she could accept that truth or be miserable most of the time. She’d opted for acceptance.

  By the time Jana finished off the last of her cappuccino, the downpour had diminished to a steady sprinkle. Deciding she’d make it back to the hotel without drowning, she gathered her packages and left the coffeehouse.

  Ten minutes later, and only half-drowned, she slipped the electronic key into the slot and let herself into her room. She carefully set the packages on the floor of the compact closet, hung her wet coat in the bathroom to dry and considered her options for the remainder of the weekend. Leaving a day early certainly appealed to her, but only because she missed Ben. Although, she reminded herself as she slipped off her loafers, he hadn’t even bothered to call. Still, so much as a hint from him that he missed her and she’d be on the next flight to L.A., no questions asked.

  She towel-dried her hair and ran a comb through it, deciding room service and an in-room movie would have to suffice. “What a pitiful substitute for a night of hot and steamy sex with one buff firefighter,” she said to her reflection.

  She left the combination entry/closet/bathroom area and walked into the room—and screeched in fright.

  There was a naked man in her bed. At least she was pretty sure he was naked since the sheets covered the essentials.

  “What are you doing here, Ben?” she demanded once her heart slid from her throat back to her chest. Not exactly the welcome he’d probably hoped for, but he’d scared the life out of her.

  “Buff, huh?”

  She was thinking slimier than llama spit applied because he’d nearly given her a coronary. Although, he did look mighty scrumptious resting against the headboard, naked and ready.

  She folded her arms and glared at him, determined not to be swayed by the tempting tilt of his mouth until he answered her question. “Better yet, how many laws did you break to get inside my room?”

  “At least two or three,” he said without an ounce of shame.

  “I could have you arrested.”

  The scoundrel’s grin deepened. “You won’t.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t be so sure of yourself.”

  “Then you’d have to settle for a pitiful substitute.” The gentle, teasing light in his eyes weakened her knees. “I would think you’d prefer a night of hot and steamy sex.”

  Llama spit, she decided, had been a compliment. “Watching you being dragged from my room by a pair of burly cops has a certain appeal.”

  He chuckled. “Naaah.”

  All that overblown arrogance of his almost made her smile.

  She made a sound of bogus disgust, crossed the room to the tapestry wing chair in the corner and sat. On the round rosewood table she noticed a vase filled with a dozen blush-colored roses that hadn’t been there when she’d left her room earlier to go shopping.

  “Don’t think for a minute flowers are going to get you off the hook for scaring me half to death.” She plucked one from the vase and inhaled the sweet scent. “So how did you get inside my room?” she asked, more out of curiosity than to follow through on an empty threat to have him arrested for breaking and entering.

  “You weren’t in, so I ordered roses, hoping they’d be delivered to your room right away. They were, and I just followed the bellman, waited until he was coming out and I walked in as if I belonged here.” He frowned slightly. “The guy even wormed a tip out of me.”

  Naked, resourceful and arrogant. A definitely lethal combination for a woman falling head over heels in love. “I thought there were laws about this kind of thing,” she said, not yet willing to feed his mammoth ego by letting on how thrilled she really was to see him.

  A frown touched his brow. “If not, there should be,” he said seriously. “You wouldn’t believe how easy it was.”

  She twirled the rose between her fingers. “I suppose I could let you stay. After all, you don’t appear to have any clothes and it is raining.”

  “I’d probably catch a cold.”

  “Or worse,” she said as she stood and slowly walked toward him. “Pneumonia.”

  His smile returned. “Think of the guilt.”

  “So what do you suggest I do with you now that you’re here?” She carefully peeled back the bedclothes. The air rushed out of her lungs at the sight of all that glorious bare skin at her disposal.

  He snagged her hand and tugged her down beside him. Before she could catch her breath, he shifted his weight and had her beneath him. “I’m sure if you try real hard,” he whispered, his breath hot against her ear, “you’ll think of something.”

  She slipped her arms around him and held him close. “Thinking,” she said, “isn’t quite what I have in mind.”
>
  NIGHT HAD FALLEN by the time they’d finally surfaced for air four hours later. Since there’d finally been a break in the storm, they’d ventured from the room for a late supper. The Italian restaurant was a total cliché and utterly charming, complete with drippy candles, red-and-white checkerboard tablecloths and a Frank Sinatra CD playing softly in the background.

  Over a dinner of shrimp scampi and angel hair pasta, she’d discovered Ben was conservative with borderline liberal tendencies, something she decided her bleeding-heart views could tolerate. He’d also confirmed there weren’t any junior studs running around wanting to be just like their daddy, either, although she’d figured that one out on her own after having been to his place. What did surprise her, though, was that he’d never been close to marriage, which made her wonder about his ability to commit to a long-term relationship.

  “Not once?” she asked him, certain his single status hadn’t stemmed from lack of female companionship. “Not even close?”

  He shook his head and took a deep drink of the dark red wine they’d ordered with dinner. “Not even close,” he said.

  “I was. Not engaged, but almost,” she admitted. “We were in college and when he transferred to Florida State, I learned that everything they say about the survival rate of long-distance relationships is true.”

  A wicked smile suddenly tugged his lips. “Tell me your fantasy,” he whispered, leaning close.

  She probably should consider his abrupt change in subject as a warning signal of some kind, but the intensity of his eyes as he waited for an answer ceased all rational thought. “Unexplored terrain,” she answered sheepishly. She offered him a helpless shrug. “Sorry.”

  If she’d surprised him, he hid it well. “Everyone has fantasies,” he said, a coaxing tone to his voice. His hand settled just above her knee, beneath the hem of her short red skirt.