by Sandra Brown
When the phone rang, she all but lunged for it, hoping, praying it would be Ian so she could tell him all that she had discovered in his absence.
"Mrs. Douglas, this is the fire chief. Is your husband there?"
"I'm sorry, he's out of town. Can I help you?" The man's shouting voice told her he was probably calling from a mobile telephone—which indicated an emergency situation.
"We've got a hell of a fire at the Shady Oaks apartment complex." He didn't seem to notice his slip of the tongue and neither did Shay. "The people who don't require hospitalization need someplace warm to go. Could we use the church until their friends or families can be notified to pick them up?"
"You can use it for as long as anyone needs it. Bring them there immediately. To the basement. I'll meet you to make sure the furnace is on."
"Some of them are in pretty bad shape, Mrs. Douglas. I hate to dump this on you, but—"
"I'll see that they're taken care of. Were there any … casualties?"
"I'm afraid so, Mrs. Douglas."
She gripped the receiver and forced down the bile that flooded the back of her throat. "I'm on my way."
She made three calls, delegating responsibility for blankets, food, and first aid, which was to be provided as soon as possible. Then she called Mr. Griffin at his hardware store and told him to go to the church immediately to see that the furnace was started and to do anything else he saw necessary to aid those who would be sheltered there. Then she called the hotel where she knew Ian was staying. Days ago, when she thought she might die of loneliness, Shay had asked the coach's wife where to reach him. She'd asked for the information, but because she was too proud, she hadn't been able to bring herself to call him.
Now when she did, she learned that he wasn't in his room. She left an urgent message. Then, taking up what she thought she might need for an indefinite vigil, she banked the fire in the fireplace, locked the house, and left for the church.
The following hours were a nightmare. Exhausted firemen and policemen led frightened, grief-stricken, disoriented people into the basement. Children cried for parents from whom they'd been separated. Frantic mothers called desperately for children they couldn't find. Old people wandered around dazed, lost, and weeping.
Shay learned that the fire had been caused by an explosion in a furnace that had ripped through the walls and ceiling of the complex with rampant destruction. Black, oily smoke had filled exit hallways. Ceilings had collapsed, blocking people's escape. Those who had survived were numb with the shock of having lost all their possessions.
Shay worked endlessly through the night, doing what she could to comfort body and soul. For those who had arrived shivering and half-clothed, their garments having been burned or torn away, she provided warm blankets. Other women of the church prepared and served a hearty soup. Drawing upon what she'd learned in a Red Cross course on emergency aid, Shay bandaged those injuries that weren't serious enough to warrant hospital treatment. She massaged life back into fingers and toes that had been exposed to the freezing cold.
Continuing reports from the site of the fire became more grim with each passing hour. The number of casualties rose as firemen finally got the flames under control and began digging through the wreckage. The hospital was reportedly filled to overflowing with burn victims.
Shay issued orders like a general, sang lullabies, and prayed. She seemed to be everywhere at once, answering hundreds of questions, giving assistance to all who required it.
When one of the women became hysterical when her husband's body was reported found, she called the Catholic priest to come. She was grateful when the rabbi of the local synagogue arrived to comfort those who were asking for him. When Mr. Griffin's brows rose with disapproval, Shay ignored him. Ian would have done the same.
She managed to sleep for a few hours in the early morning before the survivors began to stir. Her back ached with weariness, and her temples throbbed when she rose, but she was smiling gently as she coaxed a three-year-old crying for his mother to eat a scrambled egg. She was holding the child on her lap, pushing a bite of egg through quivering lips, when she saw Ian standing in the doorway.
Their eyes locked across the room, and for a moment her heart seemed to stop. Tears of gladness filled her bleary eyes. He was there. Things would get better.
He wended his way through the cots the National Guard had provided after Shay had demanded them. He squatted down beside her chair. "I'm sorry I wasn't here."
"We've managed, but I'm so glad to see you." Her lips were quivering.
Ian ran a comforting hand over the child's curly head. "Where's his mother?"
A tear rolled down Shay's cheek. She shook her head. "Both his parents. His grandmother is coming for him when she can get here."
Ian nodded. He took the child's hand and pressed it to his cheek. He closed his eyes tightly. Shay had never loved him more than at that moment. Finally he opened his eyes and stood up. "Many of the roads are still blocked with snow. I rented a car the minute I got your message and drove all night." He touched her cheek almost shyly. "How are you?"
She shook her head to dismiss such a silly question at a time like this. "They need you now, Ian." She nodded toward the other people in the crowded room.
He nodded. "I'll see you later."
By the end of the second day, the basement had been cleared of people. Shay could have gone home, but after assigning a crew to restore the basement and return borrowed equipment, she set about gathering up clothing for people who had survived. She visited those in the hospital who were able to have visitors. She tracked down vacancies in other apartment complexes for those who had been left homeless.
Ian buried the dead and comforted their families. He worked tirelessly with a crew clearing out the wreckage, trying to locate personal belongings that might be salvaged. The weather cooperated. It was still bitterly cold, but there was no more snow.
Celia and John called and offered to come and help.
Shay and Ian urged their parents to stay home. They went their separate ways in the mornings and returned late in the evenings to eat the dinner Mrs. Higgins left in the oven and then fell exhausted into bed. They couldn't deal with guests underfoot—even guests willing to help.
Within a week things more or less returned to normal. Shay returned home from the hospital early one afternoon and suddenly realized that nothing required her immediate attention. She laid wood and kindling in the fireplace, prepared a salad to go with the pot roast Mrs. Higgins had cooked that morning, and set the table in the dining room. Those chores done, she went upstairs to shower and change.
She was in the kitchen, watching for Ian's station wagon to pull into the driveway, when the telephone rang. Her agent's voice came as a complete surprise. He had called to tell her that Zavala wanted to use her, but that he wanted to have another session. He was pleased with her, but the pictures he'd taken didn't satisfy him.
Shay took a deep breath. "I hate to do this to you," she said, "but I don't think I'll do this one… I know, but— Well, I'm sorry, but I don't think I want to work with him… I don't care, he wasn't professional and threw about six temper tantrums while I was there. I don't need that. I was paid for that session only, not for the job itself, so he can't use the photographs without my permission. Besides, there's another reason, one more important… No, it isn't that. I'm going to have a baby… No, I'm thrilled— No, I don't think so unless it's a really special job… Perhaps. I'll have to talk to Ian about it… Okay. I'm sorry about the Zavala thing… Thank you… Goodbye."
Pensively she returned the telephone receiver to the wall hook. There, it was done. And she felt no sense of loss. With a secret smile on her face she turned—and saw Ian standing in the doorway. She froze. For long moments she tried to read his mood and couldn't. Finally she said lamely, "I didn't hear you come in."
His eyes roved over her face like darts seeking a target. He still wore his coat, muffler, and gloves. A puddle of melting snow wa
s forming around his boots. "You're going to have a baby?" he asked huskily.
She nodded, feeling a pang of anxiety. Would he be pleased?
But her worries were unnecessary. He stumbled toward her, dropping his outdoor wear, letting the pieces fall where they may. He reached out to touch her, hesitated, pulled his hand back, and looked down at her stomach, which was as flat as it had ever been.
She smiled tenderly. "You can touch me. As a matter of fact, I'd be pleased if you would."
"Shay," he said in a way that made the word part apology, part relief. He drew them to the wall, leaning his shoulder and head against it and laying a sensitive hand on her abdomen. "A baby," he whispered. "Our baby." His hand pressed tenderly. "Shay, I've been so miserable," he admitted.
She turned her face into the collar of his shirt, pressing her nose into that triangle at the base of his throat and breathing deeply of the masculine scent she loved. "I have, too. I've wanted you so much. Missed you, missed the closeness we had."
Keeping one hand pressed to her stomach, he tilted her head up with the other. "It's been so long, I've almost forgotten what it tasted like to kiss you."
She gave him a teasing smile. "Please feel free to revive your memory."
His lips were firm and surprisingly warm considering he'd just come in from outside. They parted gently and hers responded, following suit. For a moment they held there, motionless save for the breath that wafted between them. His fingers moved lovingly down her stomach, cupping the place where his child grew in her body.
She felt him shudder as love swept through him. He uttered a low, gratified moan at the instant his tongue entered her mouth in a gentle violation. A welcome marauder, it probed and stroked, rapidly one moment, slowly the next, in ever-changing tempos that captivated her senses.
"Let's go to bed," he said, when at last he sacrificed the nectar of her mouth for the warm, scented skin of her neck.
"What about dinner?" she queried weakly.
"Later."
He carried her up the stairs, their eyes telegraphing a thousand messages of love. They undressed each other with a titillating leisure, watching each other, devouring each other with hungry eyes. Climbing beneath the covers from opposite sides of the bed, they met in the middle.
"Hold me," Shay pleaded, wrapping her arms around his waist. "Hold me."
Their hearts pulsed together, no longer separate but two parts of a whole. His head sheltered hers beneath his chin. From shoulder to toes they touched.
"I behaved just like the stupid, narrow-minded prude you once accused me of being," he confessed. "Why didn't you sock me in the gut the way you did the first time?"
"Don't think I wasn't tempted," she said, smiling and loving the feel of his chest hair against her lips. "I didn't think it through, Ian, or I never would have suggested I pose for Zavala."
"No, no. You were totally justified in wanting to do the job. I should have shared your excitement. I'm proud of your body. Why shouldn't I be elated at the thought of your beauty being exhibited? I was a jackass. I acted just the way I counsel headstrong, possessive husbands not to act. I've always been a proponent of equality in marriage, but when it came to my own, I didn't practice what I preached."
She snuggled closer. "After I got to the studio, I didn't want the job. Your disapproval had taken the joy out of it."
"See?" he exclaimed in self-flagellation. "That's what I mean. I feel like I've cheated you out of something important."
She raised her head to look at him. "You haven't, Ian. I don't want anything in my life that we can't share. Besides, Zavala was a jerk. He cursed me, his camera, his lights, his assistants. He pouted, paced, smoked about six joints, hit—"
Ian bolted upright, his eyes blazing and nostrils flaring. "Joints! Hit? Hit what?"
"Calm down," she said, ruffling his hair affectionately and enjoying his show of temper because it was in her defense. "Hit the wall with his fist. That kind of nonsense I can live without. I told you before that I was particular." She pulled him back down on the pillow, though she kept her hands entwined in his hair. The black strands coiled around her fingers like silk.
"You're not going to retire completely, are you? From this end it sounded like your agent mentioned another job to you."
"Well, yes," she hedged, not sure how he'd take her news.
"Tell me."
"Life magazine is looking for a pregnant lady their cameras can follow through the early stages right up to the day of birth. A medical team will assist with the photography. They want a pictorial document of the pregnancy, growth of the fetus, and the birth."
"You mean my son will be in Life?" Ian beamed.
"So it's okay for your son to be photographed in the nude, but not your wife! And who said it was a son?"
He laughed and hugged her to him. "I rather like the idea of both of you being celebrities. I'd like to talk to the people in charge of the project. I don't want you endangered under any circumstances."
"I wouldn't have it any other way. This should be a family project or not at all."
"I'll never be so uncompromising again, Shay. I swear it. You said you couldn't be stifled. I don't intend to try."
"And I'll never act like a headstrong, spoiled brat again either. I want your opinion on everything I do." She laid her cheek on the hair-roughened skin of his chest. "You were right about me, Ian, from the very beginning. I was playing a role. I wanted to appear flippant and uncaring because I was insecure about the person I really am. My father wanted me to be a rebel. He had a devilish bent that loved for me to pull a prank. He actually encouraged my outrageousness. My mother wanted me to be a lady. She always disapproved of my behavior.
"I was trapped somewhere in between, but it was easier to be naughty and please my father than to be nice and please my mother. I never felt like a real person, but two parts constantly warring with each other. It took your love to bring out the real me."
"I love all the facets of you. I've told you that."
"You're generous with your love. As far as working again, I'm not making any plans. The baby may change my figure completely." Idly she feathered her hand back and forth across the curve of his buttocks. "Besides, I'll have plenty to keep me busy around here with you, the baby, my job in the afternoons at the boutique, and the church."
"I think you can count on that, especially after this past week. You've shown a remarkable knack for getting things done." He traced the fragile line of her collarbone with his finger. "Everyone loves you, Shay."
"I'm glad. Not for my sake, but for yours."
"All week I've heard endless praise for how you responded to the emergency. From the fire chief on down, I've heard nothing but compliments." His mouth twitched with amusement as his fingertip traced her mouth. "Except for Mr. Griffin. He saw you kick the stove and swear at it when it wouldn't light right away."
"That tattletale!" she cried indignantly. She buried her face against his chest. "Did I kick the stove and swear? I don't remember."
He chuckled. "He did admit you were in somewhat of a state." His index finger under her chin raised her face back to his. "You may be nominated for canonization before it's all over."
"Do you want me to be a saint?" Her breath fanned his chest as her lips toyed with his nipple. "All the time?"
"In public, maybe. In my bed I rather like you to show a streak of wickedness."
"That won't taint your admiration of me?" She flicked a pink tongue over his skin, proof that her wicked streak was very much still a part of her.
"That's what I had in mind for right now. Admiring you." In one agile motion he swept the covers aside and turned her on her back. His eyes made a swift, ravaging tour before returning to her face to begin again with leisure.
He covered her face with soft, fluttery kisses. "I'll never forget what this face looked like when I first saw it in a bathroom mirror."
"I'll never forget what I first saw either … even before your face." She touched
him and grinned when he stirred with arousal.
"You're shameless. Imagine taking advantage of a poor, defenseless man that way."
"Yes, just imagine." She was taking even greater liberties now, caressing his hard, virile shape with loving fingers.
"I'm only going to give you forty years to stop doing that," he rasped unsteadily. His tongue batted at her earlobe, then delicately investigated the interior until her back arched and she demanded his kiss.
Their lips flirted, sliding against each other as they moved their heads from side to side. Her tongue teased the corner of his mouth, and his outlined the shape of hers. All of this was only a preamble to their mating when their tongues penetrated each other's mouth, thrusting and withdrawing until they both had to come up for air.
"I'll never be appeased," he vowed. "You only make me hungry for more." Sliding down her body, he examined her breasts with luminous eyes. Experimentally he touched her nipple and watched it stiffen beneath his finger. His tongue licked it lightly. He looked down at it and whispered, "Beautiful," before he took the firm bud between his lips and drew it into his mouth. When both nipples had been treated to that kind of loving, he adored their wet glossiness with avid eyes.
"Let me love you, too," she begged.
"Soon. I told you there was so much of you to admire."
He kissed his way down her stomach. His tongue dipped into her navel in playful forays until Shay whimpered helplessly. He gave special attention to the gentle mound where their child slept and paid homage to her femininity. He was the most ardent of lovers, kissing her intimately, loving her unselfishly, bringing her to a pinnacle of passion she'd never reached before.
"Please," she sobbed, clutching at him.
His hands slid beneath her back, and he lifted her up and over him as he levered himself on his knees. With their hearts drumming together, he entered her, piercing her heart and breaking it open with his love. It showered them both with sparks of light that would burn into infinity.