The Heart of Christmas

by Kathryn Shay

  At the bottom, he eased the victim onto the floor and stood. Cordaro and Ames carried the man out by the arms and legs and Nick let them. His muscles were saturated. Blessedly cool air greeted them as they crossed the street and set the guy on the ground well away from the burn site.

  He roused. “What…what happened?”

  “You…”

  Suddenly, the guy sat up. “Gotta get out of here. They can’t know.”

  Nick grabbed for his arm. “Know what?”

  “Cap, look at his clothes.”

  Nick glanced down. Stuffed in his shirt pockets and peeking out of his sleeves were big fat rags. The kind that…

  Bolting up, the man started to run. He weaved like a drunk, and Nick easily caught up to him and tackled him to the ground.

  “What are you doing, Evans?” Chief Malvaso had jogged over to them.

  Nick looked up, still holding on to the guy. “I think I caught an arsonist. I’m pretty sure he’s got gasoline-soaked rags in his sleeves and pockets.”

  “Jesus, Evans, you had a close call in there. Those things could have caught fire…”

  That was the thing about fires. At any time a building could explode in flames.

  “You’re one lucky bastard, buddy.”

  Nick didn’t respond. Lucky was about the last word he’d apply to himself. Still, he was grateful to be alive.

  A HALF HOUR before The Book Nook opened, Stacey dropped down onto one of the chairs set up for people to relax and read. First, she turned on the morning news. She liked to catch it each day in case any books she carried were relevant to current events and she should put them on display.

  The local station came on screen. “And in another development with public workers, an unusual rescue happened this morning at four a.m. on Vickers Street. Our news crew covering the fire call got video of it…”

  The screen switched to that of a burning house. Out of it stumbled three firefighters, two of them carrying a man by his arms and legs. When they set him down on the ground, the camera zeroed in and she caught the dirty face and weary expression of Nick Evans. The loud rumbling of fire trucks and the hiss of water obscured any talk, but suddenly the victim got up and a second later Nick did the same. How odd; he started to chase the guy.

  The voice-over narrated. “The firefighter shown here is Captain Nick Evans of the HCFD as he discovers the man whose life he saved is the alleged arsonist who set the fire at the strip mall, which spread to a neighboring house. Sources say the firefighters recognized gasoline-soaked rags carried by the alleged.”

  The pretty woman came back on screen. “So not only is Nick Evans a hero of a firefighter, but he’s done the police force’s work, too. Congratulations from the WHCD news station, Captain.”

  A still shot came on-screen of Nick in his firefighter gear. Stacey froze it and cocked her head as she thought of the meeting she’d had a month ago with him. She could tell he wasn’t happy to be working on the kids’ Christmas party. He’d been friendly enough, but she’d felt his reserve. With all people? Or just her? She’d spent two hours with him but still didn’t know much about him.

  As she stared at his photo, there was something about that jaw that drew her attention. So classic, so sculpted, so masculine. His eyes were green, with blond brows lighter than his wheat-colored hair.

  They’d set a date to plan the party, discussed possible themes, and agreed to meet today, the beginning of October, to get to work on the nitty-gritty. She wondered after fighting a fire, which had apparently raged out of control, and tackling an arsonist if he’d show at the store.

  The bell at the back tinkled and she could hear Cora Carlyle enter. The woman had been a lifesaver when she’d come in looking for a full-time job—Stacey had only had two part-time employees then—exactly when the rare-book section of the business had taken off.

  Stacey smiled when the five-ten, willowy woman made her way out to the main store. “Morning, Stacey,” she said cheerfully.

  “Get some coffee and come join me.”

  Soon, Cora seated herself. “Thank you again for coming in to open while my husband’s away so I don’t have to worry about being late.”

  “Get the kids on the bus okay?”

  “Yeah, but Bobby’s a slowpoke.” She smiled at the thought of her seven year old. “I’m glad Jay takes care of that normally.”

  Stacey hid a sudden pang of sadness. The only thing she regretted about her ten-year relationship with Jess was not having children. Who knew their life together would be so short? They were having fun when they first wed, then she’d inherited the bookstore when her beloved parents had died, then Jess had gotten a promotion…the time had never seemed right. After he’d been killed in that fire, she’d vowed never to let something important slip away from her again.

  And damn, why did she keep having these moments of nostalgia and time flying by?

  Cora caught a glimpse of the frozen screen. “Oh, yummy. Who’s the guy?”

  “One of America’s Bravest. He caught an arsonist last night. Tackled him right to the ground.”

  “Mmm. We’ll have to check the female-firefighter blog online. One of my neighbors contributes to it. It’s called Fire Belles, and the women tout the men in the department, too.”

  “Cute name.” She glanced at her watch. “He’s coming here at eleven for a meeting.”

  “Lucky you. Is it about the Christmas party?”

  “Uh-huh. He’s a reluctant co-chair.”

  “You can make him more cooperative, Stacey. Use your feminine wiles on him.”

  She laughed out loud. “I don’t have them. I must have been sick the day God doled them out.”

  Cora scowled. “I wish you wouldn’t say that about yourself. You’re lovely.”

  Stacey gave an unladylike snort. “I’m plain, simple and have never known how to flirt. Funny thing, I didn’t mind all that.” She glanced away.

  “What?”

  “Until Jess died. I’m…” She bit her lip, feeling guilty for even uttering her feelings. “I’m lonely, I guess. I’d like more in my life. And I’d probably do better out there in dating land if I was more feminine.”

  “You have to get out there to do better, Stace. You give off absolutely no vibes you’re interested in dating.”

  “It’s a recent development. I’m going to my office. Send Nick Evans back when he comes.”

  “Gladly.”

  Stacey sat down at her computer and called up the rare-book icon. An online auction for a first edition of a Hemingway novel would take place today. Though she hated his misogynist, self-absorbed stories, collectors paid good bucks for his work. She clicked into the online seller’s site. Bidding started at two this afternoon. She’d scribbled down a reminder and posted it on her computer.

  She should do some work on the store finances, but she leaned back and thought about Cora’s comments. And the rescue Nick Evans performed. Huh! She did appreciate his looks. And he had an aura of authority, of command, that she hadn’t even known she liked in a man.

  What the hell? Sitting up, she conducted a quick search and called up the blog of the Fire Belles. Sure enough, there was the same picture shown on TV. She read the blog: our hero…daring save…what a good guy he was…how he volunteered at a women’s shelter. They made a point of saying he worked hard promoting females in the department.

  Cora appeared at the doorway. “Stacey, Nick Evans is here.”

  Quickly, she closed the computer and stood. Smoothing down the black skirt she wore with a plain, white blouse, she smiled as he came to the entrance. “Good morning.”

  He didn’t look tired. He looked as if he’d just rolled out of bed, and she had to admit, he wore it well. His hair was mussed and he sported a growth of overnight beard. A navy T-shirt tucked into beltless blue jeans.

  “Morning.”

  “Come on in, Nick. Have a seat at the table.”

  “Thanks.” He eyed the pot in the corner. “I’d sell my soul
for a cup of that. Would you mind?”

  “Go ahead. And soul selling won’t be necessary.” His rumpled look—or maybe Cora’s suggestion—made her think about saying something clever regarding ways he could repay her, but she kept quiet. See, she didn’t know how to flirt.

  He seemed bigger when he sat and gulped back coffee from the huge mug he’d chosen. And his scent wafted over to her. He must have showered after the fire and put on some spicy aftershave. “Sorry I’m such a mess. I literally just woke up.”

  “I saw what happened on the news. You could have called and canceled this meeting.”

  “I had no idea I’d sleep so late.” He looked around. “Very nice in here.” A definite change of subject.

  She tried to see the office through his eyes: posters of women authors everywhere (well, the store was hers!) a solid-oak desk, a sage-green, microfiber couch. She’d painted the walls a lighter green and the trim on the one big window white. The same color scheme and oak wood repeated out in the store. “Thanks.”

  “I didn’t bring my notes with me. I forgot.”

  “No problem.” She crossed to the cabinet in the corner and pulled out her laptop. When she reseated herself, she met his gaze. “Before we start, I want to congratulate you. You actually caught an arsonist?”

  He chuckled and the change in his face was dramatic. And appealing. “Can you believe it? Hell of a thing.”

  “My employee told me about the women’s blog. I read it. They adore you.”

  “I try to counteract the anti-female element in fire departments, though the HCFD is better than most.”

  “I saw what they wrote. You also volunteer at a women’s shelter. Why?”

  He shrugged. “I got a little sister, who…let’s just say, I hate men who abuse women.”

  “Where does she live?”

  “She moved here when I did. From New York.” He seemed to study her. “Do you have family in Hidden Cove?”

  “Jess’s. I adore them. My parents died and left me the bookstore. No siblings. But Jess’s family is big, so I have plenty of sisters and brothers.”

  “I’m glad for you.” Nick nodded to the file. “Where do we start today?”

  Stacey regretted the change of subject. She enjoyed the exchange of personal information. “I thought we’d talk in global terms of what we want to provide for the kids, then go from there. It’s in the Academy gym, so we’ll have to decorate. And the date’s already set. December twelve.” Parker had emailed both of them the information at the end of the summer.

  He sipped more coffee and leaned forward. “We should probably plan for kids aged four to seventeen. That’s the range for the camp itself, but of course, we’ll be getting other children in town for the fund-raiser.”

  “I’ve given that some thought, too. Do you know Faith McPherson? Well, Ruscio now.”

  “The name sounds familiar.”

  “Her husband’s an ex-cop. Long story there.”

  “Now I remember; he did some henchman work for Stan Steele years ago.”

  “He’s reformed,” she said defensively. “He’s a real family man.”

  Nick held up his hands, arrest style. “Hey, you’re preaching to the choir. I totally believe in second chances. So what about his wife?”

  “I belong to her father’s church. They’ve had fund-raisers for the camp. One was a kind of festival, with booths that catered to a variety of age groups. They haven’t done it for years, though, because they like to pick new ways of involving their congregation.”

  “Fine by me. We should have a theme though.”

  “I thought about that, too. Maybe we could do a hero theme. Incorporate real-life heroes like firefighters”—she nodded to him—“police officers and veterans with classic superheroes like Superman, Batman and Wonder Woman.”

  “Wow.” Those blond brows rose. In person they were thicker, blonder. “You’ve got this all planned. You don’t even need me.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh, my gosh, did I overstep? I should have consulted you on the basics. These are only suggestions. We can—”

  “Whoa there.” His grin was wide. Sexy. “I was teasing.”

  Damn it, she was rusty. She couldn’t even tell when men teased her. Rusty, and completely out of her element with this guy.

  An hour later, they were analyzing some spreadsheets that Stacey had printed off, listing what needed to be done. Nick reached out to grab a page and accidentally hit the large mug he’d filled again. It tipped over and coffee splashed onto Stacey before she could back off. When she did, she pushed the table hard and upended it; papers flew everywhere.

  “Oh, shit,” Nick said. “I’m sorry.”

  She laughed. “No use crying over spilt coffee.” She pointed to the lav. “Want to get some paper towels in there?”

  He rushed to the bathroom and came out carrying a roll. When he was flush with her, he tore off a few pieces. Before he gave them to her, his gaze traveled below her chin. “Want some help with that?” His tone was amused, and his green eyes sparkled like emeralds as he nodded at her.

  She looked down. The white blouse she’d put on this morning clung to her breasts, outlining the lacy bra she wore beneath it. She raised her eyes to his and felt a spark of something arc between them. Her body reacted.

  Oh, Lord, he’d know. He’s seen. Covering them up would just draw more attention to the fact that her nipples had beaded under his perusal.

  If she only did know how to flirt. Say something cool and suggestive.

  Instead, Stacey was mortified.

  AS NICK HEADED to the west side of the city where his sister lived, he was annoyed with himself. In the two hours since his meeting about the Christmas party, he’d been unable to get Stacey Sterling’s body out of his mind. Usually he preferred petite, pretty and polished in women, but something had caught his interest in plain, simple Stacey. Though, in truth, she was anything but. Her hazel eyes were wide set in her face, her hair a natural mass of curls a woman would pay megabucks for at a salon. And her body—which had reacted to his perusal in a most notable way—was lush. Suddenly, Nick liked lush.

  Which was about the stupidest thing in the world. Reaching his sister Kelly’s little ranch house, he pulled into the driveway and saw her wave to him from the window. Now, his sister was simple. An uncomplicated life was all Kelly craved these days. She appeared at the door, then came outside quickly. She also liked order and punctuality. Wearing an ordinary, blue top and pants that matched, she headed toward him. If he wasn’t used to it, the face that could stop traffic would shock him. Her once-long, dark hair was now chin length, and her almond-shaped eyes and bow mouth gave her an exotic look. But he, along with Kelly herself, rued her drop-dead-gorgeous appearance, which she did nothing to enhance. For good reason.

  “Hey, Nicky,” she said when she got into the Bronco. Leaning over, she kissed his cheek.

  “Hey, sis.” He started the car and headed to the interstate for their weekly trek—except when he was on days—to New York City. “How are you, baby?”

  “Chicken pox are over. What more do you need to know?” Her two daughters were spitfires, much like their mom used to be. But life had drained the mischief and the innocence out of Kelly and he’d regret his part in that until the day he died. “You?”

  Time to tell her. “I had a meeting with a woman who is co-chairing a party with me. The fire department officers all drew straws. I got the shortest.”

  “What kind of party?”

  He reached out and squeezed her knee. “It’s a children’s Christmas party the fire department is putting on to raise money for Hale’s Haven. Don’t get upset about it.”

  She shook her head in that world-weary way she used to project all the time. “I’m sorry. I know how you feel about the holiday.”

  Shrugging, he ducked his head to see the overhead, green signs directing him to the Bronx. “Water under the bridge.”

  “We promised we’d always be honest with each othe
r, Nicky.”

  “Okay, I’m pissed I got roped into this. You know I like to forget about the holiday.”

  “Tell me about your coworker.”

  Jesus. He felt himself flush. Of course Kelly caught it. There were few secrets between them. “What? Why are you blushing?”

  “Brother/sister closeness only goes so far, kiddo.”

  “Ha!”

  “Okay, I found myself inexplicably attracted to her. She’s not my type at all, but I felt a…physical thing right away.”

  “Does she feel it too?”

  Man, did she. “Yes.”

  “How could you tell?”

  “I could tell.”

  “Nick, don’t sound like you robbed a bank. You like a woman. That’s good. There haven’t been many women since your divorce from Lucinda.” Which had separated him from his daughter Taylor, another thing he regretted. She’d gone to Europe to live with her jet-setting mother.

  “I don’t know Stacey well enough to like her.” Though he missed having somebody special in his life, she wasn’t a good choice.

  “Then get to know her.”

  He shook his head.

  “What?”

  “She’s Pollyanna. The girl next door. Doris Day.”

  “How old is she?”

  “Early thirties, I guess. But you know how some people just shout I’m good. I’m sweet. I’m innocent. That’s her.”

  Quiet for a few moments, Kelly finally said, “You’re a good man, Nicky. You don’t think that, because of what happened, but if anybody’s at fault, it’s that bastard.”

  They rode for a while, then he turned to his sister. “I know that here.” He pointed to his head. “But my heart’s not ever going to catch up.”

  Kelly didn’t respond. What could she say? She knew better than anyone he was right.

  A half hour later, they pulled up to a nondescript, three-story house in the Bronx, not far from Yankee Stadium. No one would ever know from its new coat of paint that Nick paid for and the fence that he put in what horror those walls housed. “Ready?”

  “Yeah, I love coming to Joshua House.”

  “I’m glad, kiddo. Now let’s go make some spaghetti for the girls.”