“I was watching that,” he protested.
“Oh, really? What is it?”
“What difference does that make?”
“You don’t know, do you? You weren’t watching anything. You were using the television to stare at so you wouldn’t need to talk to me, so you wouldn’t have to deal with having had your cover blown tonight.”
“My cover blown?” He all but snorted. “That’s a good way to put it.”
“What do you think will happen when more people find out? How many of the people you know are going to care what you did or didn’t do five years ago?”
He stared at her hard, almost glared, for a long moment, chin up, shoulders tensed as if to ward off a blow. Or launch one. Then, he slowly wagged his head back and forth in defeat. His shoulders drooped. “Who knows,” he said.
“Come on.” He’d made a good start in acknowledging her question. Such a simple thing, but it hadn’t been easy for him. She took him by the hand and led him to sit beside her on the bed. “Tell me the worst thing that can happen now, regarding people learning about your past. How bad can it get?”
He looked at her out of one eye. “You’re not making fun of me, are you? You’re really asking.”
“I’m really asking. Let’s figure this out,” she encouraged. “Maybe make a plan or two to deal with it.”
He groaned and rolled his eyes. “You’re one of those goal-oriented positive thinkers, are you? Plan your work and work your plan, or some such garbage.”
“I see you’ve found your sense of humor again. That’s good. Planning has its place in the overall scheme of things, but I also enjoy flying by the seat of my pants.”
He reached out and trailed his hand down her outer thigh. “And a very fine seat it is, pants and all.”
“Okay. I’d say you’re feeling better.”
“Can we just drop it? I’m not giving out any more interviews tonight.” He shifted until they lay together, crossways on the bed. He rose above her, his weight braced on one forearm, his hips pressed against hers. “I can think of better things to do.”
Shannon smiled and ran a finger across his lips. “I bet you can.” She was torn. Give him this easy way out of talking and make love with him, which they both wanted anyway, or push him away and try again to get him to talk about what was uppermost in his mind.
When he buried his mouth against the side of her neck, the question became moot. She could never push this man away. He was too much in her blood. When she tried to think about going home without him, all she could envision was darkness. All she felt was loneliness. Only with Nick was she safe and warm and part of a whole, solid unit. Only with him was she not alone.
Shannon was the first to recover enough for speech. “If you promise that I never have to move again, I’ll worship you forever.”
“Okay. If I don’t move again, you won’t be able to. I know I’m crushing you.” He moved his arms as if to push himself up.
Shannon held him close. “No, stay. Please. You’re not crushing me.”
They lay that way, wrapped in each other’s arms, with Shannon reveling in his heat and weight, for a long while. She thought he might have dozed for a bit, but eventually, he rolled aside. It was impossible to feel rejected, for he took her with him and snuggled up against her.
“Better?” he asked.
“Almost perfect.”
“Almost? What would make it perfect?”
Shannon pushed herself up onto her elbow and looked at him. “If you would talk to me. I don’t mean the interview,” she said in a rush when he started to speak. “I mean about what you’re facing around town tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow.” He closed his eyes. “That soon, huh?”
“Hey, wait a minute. It just occurred to me that twice in recent months—once when somebody found out Wade Harrison was here, and again a few weeks later when he dedicated that new monument to his heart donor and then got married—this town has been flooded with media and paparazzi. Every radio and television network, every magazine, every major newspaper. They were all here. How the devil did you avoid being recognized? Someone should have known you by sight in that group, surely.”
“Wade gave me a heads-up, so I lay low while they were here.”
“How do you lay low in a town this size? What did you do, stay home?”
He gave a wry laugh. “The first time, it was summer, so, yeah, I kept pretty close to home. But for the monument and the wedding, I had to be at school every day. We were shorthanded, and I had to spend some time at the elementary school, where Dixie’s boys go, so don’t think I wasn’t worried. But I kept out of everyone’s way. Drove instead of walked. If I had to walk, I stuck to back alleys.”
Shannon shook her head. “All that trouble, and now here you are, a few weeks later.”
“Huh. It’s one thing for the town to learn who I am. Most of them won’t care. But with that other group, the media and whatnot, I would have been plastered all over the place again. Just like last time.”
“Just what did happen with the media? Oh—no. Don’t answer that. That’s an interview question. We’ll get to it tomorrow. Except you’ve got an appointment tomorrow.”
He looked away and stared at the television.
“You do remember, don’t you?” she prodded.
“Remember what?”
“You promised to meet the fire chief at the nursing home at ten.”
“Oh, that. Yeah, I remember.”
“You don’t think somebody’s going to comment on the fact that you’ve been a firefighter more years than some of those volunteers have been alive?”
“Was,” he said grimly. “Was a firefighter. And I’m only thirty-two.”
“All right, thirty-two, and was. And why— No, I’m going to save that question. What’s your worst nightmare stemming from people knowing you’re the firefighter who saved those people? From your being a hero.”
“That.” He shot out from beneath her and jumped from the bed. With jerky movements he stepped into his jeans, then started pacing the floor. “That word you used. That’s my worst nightmare.”
“Well, now. I guess I hit a nerve. I just wish I knew what word you’re talking about. Do you mean hero?”
“Oh, that’s the one, all right.”
Along with the anger and frustration that lit his eyes, she thought she detected a hint of fear. “You have no idea how badly I want to ask you why that word causes you such a problem. But I’d rather save that for the interview.”
“That figures.”
“Don’t take that tone with me.” She sat up and pulled the sheet up to cover her body. “You knew why I was here from the start. No law says you have to say anything.”
“That’s right, I don’t.”
Shannon stiffened. “Are we fighting?” Her eyes popped wide. “I think we’re fighting.”
“You don’t have to sound so excited about it. We’ve been fighting from the minute you walked up and introduced yourself to me.”
“We’ve been disagreeing, not fighting.”
“So what’s different now?”
“I don’t know.” She grinned. “It just seems like, since we’re sleeping together, we should be able to fight about something now and then, so we can make up.”
He raised his hands in surrender. “All right, let’s fight. What about?”
She tightened the sheet over her breasts. “I think we should figure out what you can say to people tomorrow when they ask you about…you know.”
Nick flopped down on the chair beside the table. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“No.” She scooted to the edge of the bed. “Be thinking about it while I get dressed.”
“Don’t get dressed on my account.” There was a cute little whine in his voice that made her laugh.
“Sorry, big guy.” But when she came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, she wore panties and an oversize T-shirt.
“Okay, down to bus
iness.” She plopped onto the bed. “More people are going to know about you by tomorrow. Some of them won’t know the details and will ask you about how you saved the men, or about the injury you sustained doing it, or the seriousness of your injury, your miraculous recovery, why you left New York, and why you’re not a local firefighter. Anything else?”
“Isn’t that enough?” he said, resignation in his voice.
“All right, then. Let’s see.” She tapped her finger against her cheek and studied the ceiling. She knew where she wanted to lead him, but wasn’t quite sure how to get him there. He was a man, after all, so the sensible, direct route would never do.
“What are you thinking?” he asked, suspicion coloring his voice. “You’re looking way too innocent for comfort.”
“All right, all right. Tell me something. If everyone you know in town comes up to you tomorrow and calls you a hero, tells you they admire you, asks you all those questions you don’t want to deal with—what would happen if, during the next few days, it was as bad as you’ve imagined it could be? What would happen?”
“What do you mean?”
“What would happen? Would the sky fall?”
“Now you’re making fun of me.”
“I’m not. I’m asking you to seriously consider what’s going to happen tomorrow and the next days and weeks. Will people start to hate you? Will you start to hate them? What?”
Nick scowled. “Of course I’m not going to hate them. Why would I hate them? The main thing I have a problem with is that damn word.”
“Hero?”
“That’s the one.”
“I guess it would be uncomfortable to be called a hero.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” he said heatedly. “People throw that word around and expect you to live up to it. Expect you to be perfect.” He shoved up from the chair and started pacing. “Better than perfect. Who can live up to that?”
He threaded his fingers through his hair in agitation. “You’re expected to do something heroic every time you turn around. Kitten up a tree on your block? Call the hero, he’ll get it down. Backed-up toilet? Why, we’ve got a hero down the street. He’ll take care of it. Then you do something maybe not so heroic, like, oh, I don’t know, let the grass get too high, or drink too much, or don’t wash the car or paint the house when it needs it. Then, instead of just being a normal person, you’re a disappointment to all those people who thought you were a hero and expected you to be perfect and heroic every damn day for the rest of your damn, stinking life.”
For once, Shannon was at a loss for words. She didn’t know what to say to help him. He was obviously speaking from experience; platitudes would be worse than useless, they would be condescending. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly.
He whirled on her. “What for?” The words shot out as if fired from a gun.
“I’m sorry that someone made you think you had to live up to all that. I can see some of the problems it can cause.”
“When you try to tell them you’re nobody’s hero, just an ordinary man, they argue with you, or think you’re being humble or something, or they get hurt or mad because they need a hero, and they expect you to be it.”
Shannon ached for the anguish he tried to disguise with anger. “Come here.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Why?”
“Because I like sitting next to you.”
He dropped his head and heaved a sigh. “I’m being an ass, right?”
“No.” She scooted back on the bed until she sat against the headboard. Then she patted the space beside her. “That’s a pretty heavy load for anyone to carry.”
“Yeah?” He hooked his thumbs in the front pockets of his jeans.
Across the room Harry Potter was working on a new spell on one of the cable channels, but the sound was off.
“What happens at the nursing-home inspection you’re going to tomorrow?”
He let out a low groan. “Don’t remind me.”
“Come on, it can’t be that bad. This guy’s a real firefighter. He’s not going to…oh, yeah. You saved his cousin.”
He chewed on the inside of his cheek.
“Well, you did. That’s a fact. If he thanks you again, just say you’re welcome and change the subject.”
“You make it sound easy.”
“I know. And I imagine it’s not easy at all. I don’t know what else to say. But what about the inspection? What’s going to happen with that?”
“The chief will do most of the talking, and every now and then I’ll grunt. That’s what we men do when we don’t want to say anything, or don’t have anything to say.”
“For shame. You’re going to have to come up with something better than a grunt. This is a fire-safety inspection.”
He shrugged. “I don’t have the training for that, and I don’t know the Texas fire codes.”
“But you know what’s safe and what’s not.”
“I guess that’s true.”
“You’re just going there to put in your two cents. Maybe make a recommendation or two that goes beyond what’s required and speaks to what’s best for the residents of the home.”
“Listen to you, Little Miss Crusader.” His smile took any sting out of the words.
“Now and then, yes, I tend to climb up on my soap box.” She eyed him pointedly. “But I try to keep an open mind about most things.”
“Touché.” He pulled her close and kissed her.
Nick felt like a naughty teenager, sneaking into the house along with the first rays of the sun, carrying his shoes so as not to make noise, after a night of hot sex.
“Do you want some breakfast?”
Startled, Nick dropped his shoes. “Damn, Bev, you could give a guy a heart attack sneaking up on him that way.”
She stood in the kitchen doorway, arms folded, lips pursed so as not to laugh out loud at him, he was sure.
“I don’t believe I’m the one who was sneaking.”
Nick felt his face heat up. Great. He was blushing. And he was trying hard not to laugh because, remembering his conversation with Shannon not too many hours ago, he had the overwhelming urge to answer his aunt with a grunt. But he didn’t think she’d stand for it. “I was trying not to wake you.”
“Nice save. I’m making pancakes.”
“Yes, please.”
Over breakfast Bev informed him that, after the game last night, she had overheard someone at the pizza parlor talking about Nick the janitor being some “How did he put it? Some big-time 9/11 hero.”
This time he did grunt. There wasn’t a thing in the world to say about that.
“I guess your secret is out.”
“The new fire chief recognized me.”
“He’s been here for more than two months. Why is he just now recognizing you?”
“I haven’t seen him up close except his second day in town when he toured the schools. But I’ve seen him around lately. Then he found out I’m hanging around with a reporter from New York, and tonight he saw me at the game talking to Wade Harrison, also from New York. He put it together and asked me if I was the guy who saved his cousin when the Twin Towers fell.”
“Oh.”
Nick nodded and jabbed a huge bite of pancakes into his mouth so he wouldn’t have to talk about it anymore.
A futile effort. No way would Aunt Bev let him change the subject. Not when she’d been wanting him to tell the truth about himself for years.
“Are you all right?” she asked gently.
“I’m not thrilled about it all, but I knew the day was coming, sooner rather than later, when Wade Harrison moved to town.”
“Wade told?” Her tone and expression would have been the same if she’d asked if Wade had taken a knife to him.
“No, it wasn’t him, but he knew me the first time he saw me, his first week in town, back when he was washing dishes for Dixie, remember?”
Bev smiled. “I remember,” she said. “So, you’re okay, then?”
“I
will be. Don’t worry, Bev, I’ll be fine. If I make it through today, I’ll make it through anything.”
“We already know you can survive anything. What’s today?”
“Assisting the new fire chief with a fire-safety inspection at the nursing home, and maybe a fire drill. Then I get to hang around the gym and make sure nobody falls off a ladder or shorts out the wiring or anything while they decorate for tonight’s dance.”
“And then?”
“And then,” he said with a smile, “in between breaking up fights, hauling out drunks, and pouring out the punch and starting over as soon as they’ve spiked it, I get to dance with a sexy lady reporter from New York.”
“You like her,” Bev noted, sounding satisfied.
“What’s not too like? Except that she’s a reporter, but nobody’s perfect.”
But Shannon was as perfect as they came, Nick thought. Perfect for him.
And he wondered, what was a man supposed to do when the woman was the right one, but he was the wrong man for her? She deserved a whole man, not one with huge doubts about himself.
She had helped put him partially back together, and that was the truth. But there was more to being a man than sex. Not that he wasn’t grateful to have that part of himself alive and active again. But there was more, and he didn’t have it. He’d lost it when that beam had fallen on him, and he didn’t know how to get it back. Or if he ever would.
Chapter Nine
The nursing-home inspection was not the ordeal Nick had feared. The inspection team consisted of Lon, a couple of town council members and a representative from the state’s fire safety board. And Nick, for whatever that was worth. The owner of the facility was there, as well, and the two staff members designated as fire-safety staffers.
Then, of course, there was the local media. The safety of the nursing-home residents warranted one reporter/photographer from the Tribute Banner—and Shannon. She came sidling up to Nick where he stood at the back of the group while the owner gave his spiel about how much he appreciated the city working to make the patients and building safe.
Finding Nick Page 11