America's Bravest (46 page)

“Amber said things were fine when I called at
eleven.” Sydney spoke into the softness of the night. “I told her
to make sure all the doors were locked and she could lie down on
the twin bed in Daisy’s room if she got tired.”

“That’s nice. She goes to sleep around eleven
on weekends.”

“Max, I’m really sorry for breaking your
platters.” There had been china pieces everywhere that Tony
insisted on cleaning up.

“No problem. They’re old.”

They talked about normal things but the
atmosphere in the front seat of the car practically crackled. She
had to feel it, too. And the scent of her sexy perfume drifted over
to him; he found himself inhaling surreptitiously.

“The party was great.”

“Catered food, though I don’t like to have
paid help serving.”

“Did you entertain a lot with your wife?”

“Yes, we both liked it. How about you?”

“My time and circumstances don’t exactly
foster entertaining.”

“What do you do for fun, Sydney?”

She shrugged a shoulder and stared out at the
road “I work out every day. I play with Daisy. I spend time with my
mother. She loves old movies.” Sydney shrugged. “I really like to
dance.”

He waited a beat. What the hell, he might as
well ask. “I imagine you have scads of dates to take you dancing at
clubs.”

“Wow, you’re great for my ego.”

“I’m not lying.” Though the thought of her
arousing those phantom men like she had aroused Max so easily
tonight didn’t sit well. “So, do you?”

“Hardly time for that.”

They arrived at her house and he pulled into
the small driveway. When he shut off the engine, she went for the
handle on the door.

“Wait a sec, it sticks. I have to bring the
car to the dealership.” Leaning over, he reached out to jimmy the
handle to un-stick it, and his arm brushed her breasts. Combined
with her scent, the touch hit him square in the groin. He heard her
slight intake of breath, and he was no longer
semi
-hard.
He couldn’t draw back for a minute, and in the light from the porch
when he did, he saw her staring at him.

Jesus. Like a woman.

Straightening, he said, “I, um, I’m
sorry.”

“Sure, no problem.” She fussed with her
skirt. “It was an accident.”

Not thinking about what he was doing, he
grasped her arms gently, which turned her to face him. He stared at
her directly. “Actually, I lied. I’m not sorry.”

Again, a little gasp, then she chuckled. “I
lied, too. It is a problem.” She licked her lips. “A nice one.
I’m…”

“Turned on? Me, too.”

She leaned forward and so did he. His mouth
came down on hers forcefully. She met his with equal
enthusiasm.

And for Max, all thought fled.

oOo

“Put the seat back.” He left her mouth to
bark the words, then took it again. Took, claimed, devoured.

Still kissing him, she sprung the seat
mechanism and went down flat on her back. Reaching over the
gearshift, he slid his hand under her dress, caressed her thighs,
tugged at her panties. She murmured, “Hurry. Take them off.”

Yanking the dress up around her waist, he
dragged the scraps of lace from her, then lifted himself over the
console separating them. His weight came down on her and she basked
in the feel of the hard planes of his body aligned with her curves.
They kept kissing, and Sydney couldn’t get enough of him.

When he eased to the side, she protested.

“I have to get my damned zipper down.”

“Hurry,” she repeated.

He managed to free himself; to accommodate
him, she bent and spread her legs. Then he settled between
them.

She said, “Now,” and he said, “Yes, now,” and
plunged inside her. She was wet and ready and he was hard as a
rock.

One thrust…

Two…

“Oh, my God, oh God.” On the third push she
felt the spasms begin. Closing her eyes, she saw only color, light
and brightness.

Max tried to hold off, tried to endure her
pleasure, take joy in it, but being inside her was too much for
him. He jerked forward, pushed himself in even farther, and
exploded.

Afterward, he lay heavily on top of her, but
couldn’t move. Couldn’t catch his breath. Then he became aware of
his surroundings. He was covered in sweat and was nearly gasping
for breath.

Finally, he was able raise himself up on his
elbows. What he saw socked him in the gut. Her hair was damp, her
skin sweaty and her cheeks rosy. Her sleepy-eyed gaze held his, and
a smile broached full and swollen lips. Had he ever seen a lovelier
sight?

“You pack quite a punch, Max Delinsky.”

“Me? You blew me away.” He grinned and kissed
her nose. “It was fantastic.”

Her eyes closed, she arched and aftershocks
went through them both. “Hmm. Me too.”

He laughed and shook his head. She caught the
gesture. “What?”

“I have no idea what happened here. This so
isn’t me.”

“Me, either. For several years, anyway.”

Silence, while he brushed the hair from her
eyes. “We should talk.”

“All right.”

Max swore twice trying to maneuver himself up
and get back to the driver’s side of the car. Feeling like a horny
teenager, he tried to right his clothes. When he glanced to the
right, she was sitting up, her dress—unfortunately—pulled over her
thighs.

Tenderly, he took her hand in his, brought it
to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “I guess this showed I
haven’t had sex in years.”

She was quiet. In the light from the moon, he
saw her expression was full of feeling. “I haven’t either,
Max.”

“No, kidding?”

“No kidding.”

Sliding his hand to her neck, he caressed her
there. He couldn’t seem to stop touching her. “Are you sorry? About
this?”

“No. I feel too good to have second
thoughts.”

Sexual satisfaction singed the air. He
luxuriated in the once-familiar feeling, absent from his life for
so long. Too long.

Finally, she spoke. “Why do you think this
happened, Max?”

“Well, that dress for one thing. I haven’t
been able to take my eyes off it all night.”

She ran her hand through his hair. “So many
happy couples there tonight, too. I felt almost bad being by
myself.”

“Loneliness. For us both, it seems.”

Laughter bubbled up in her. “Hell of a way to
break a fast.”

Tenderly, he cupped her cheek.

“Maybe it’s because I saved your life.”

“Yeah, then what’s your excuse?”

Again, more laughter.

He sobered. “Sydney, I’m fourteen years older
than you.”

She let her hand drift down and over his
crotch. “Couldn’t prove it by me.”

“Arrgh.” Then, “Seriously, do you think this
was a good idea?”

“It wasn’t an idea, Max. It was a volcano. A
force of nature.”

He leaned his forehead against hers. “What do
we do about it?”

“Nothing, probably. We live completely
different lives. I have a toddler. Your best friend is my
boss.”

“Not to mention the fourteen years.”

She drew away again and watched him. He
seemed thoughtful, like he was making a decision. Finally, he said,
“What if I wanted to do it again?”

“It was really a showstopper, so if you want
an encore, I’m game.” Boldly, she placed her hand over his groin.
“Oh. I guess you are, too.”

“I do. But I meant, maybe it doesn’t have to
end tonight. We could see where this goes between us.”

“Maybe. We should give it some thought,
though. Be practical. Figure out the angles.”

“I suppose we should be adult about jumping
into anything.”

Sydney moved in closer. “Let’s not talk
anymore about it tonight, okay?”

“Fine by me. Your turn to climb over the
gearshift.”

The next morning, after he awoke in the bed
he’d shared with Annette, Max tried to open himself up to
recriminations. He thought he’d feel at least vaguely guilty. But
instead, his body stirred at the memory of being with Sydney in the
car last night and their
volcanic
response to each other.
They’d been foolish, because anyone could have come up to the car
and seen them. And because they’d been careless. Hell, she could be
pregnant. What possessed him to have sex without condoms?

You haven’t bought any in years.
He
wondered if she’d had any with her. After Daisy, did she carry
them? That thought unnerved him, and he didn’t want to think about
her past, what she’d done with other guys. It wasn’t any of his
business; it wasn’t part of
now
. Was it?

He heard Amber stirring, so he got up—he was
hard again—took a shower (cold) and dressed. He spent more time on
his appearance, picking out his favorite casual shirt of white
gauzy material and pressed blue jeans. On his feet he wore
Docksiders.

“Hi, Dad.” His daughter greeted him in the
bright sunny kitchen, which smelled like pancakes. She was still in
pajamas, not the pink polka dots he used to love, but a T-shirt and
pj bottoms. His little girl was growing up.

“Hey, Princess.”

She eyed him with teenage scrutiny. “You
okay?”

“Yeah, great, why?”

She sniffed. “You got on that mag aftershave
I like.”

“No crime in that.”

“And you look better than usual. Not so…sad,
I guess.”

I’m not sad.
“I’m looking forward to
interviewing the firefighters this morning. I have to be downtown
by eight.”

Amber’s blue eyes twinkled. “You seeing
Sydney today? She is so cool, Dad.”

He’d have chosen the opposite of
cool—
hot, very, very hot
—but he smiled at his daughter.
Best to get his mind off Sydney, though, so he asked her about her
day. “What time are you going over to Millie’s?”

She took a gulp of orange juice. “Late this
morning.”

After pouring coffee, he took a seat adjacent
to her. “Do you need a ride?”

“No, Janie’s mother is picking me up. You can
drive us home, though.”

“Just give me a time.”

His pleasant breakfast with his child
enhanced his mood and he drove to House 7 feeling lighter than he
had in years. When he reached the big, brick building, he turned
off the engine and stared ahead. He’d see her in a few minutes. Be
close enough to smell her. Was he up to it? “Bad, bad choice of
words, Delinsky.”

Amused with the reaction of his body, he got
out of his car and headed to the side door. It was ajar, welcoming
the fresh air, so he walked inside and followed the scent of coffee
to the kitchen. He’d been here before, of course. For one thing,
Cal was a captain in this house years ago and now, as battalion
chief, had his office in the building. But the interior looked
brighter with a new coat of paint and some updated stainless steel
appliances.

The crew was subdued, sitting around a
scarred oak table, engaged in various activities. Brody O’Malley
was texting, probably to his lovely girl, Emma. Felicia White sat
in front of a laptop computer, most likely working on the blog.
Tony Ramirez, the big guy with an even bigger smile, read the
newspaper. Gabe Malvaso had a
Firehouse
magazine in front
of him.

Max left Sydney till last. She was staring at
what he recognized as the latest edition of
The Heart of Hidden
Cove
. Her dark brown hair was tucked behind her ears, and
little earrings, the ones he’d nibbled on last night, still pierced
the lobes. From beneath her light blue uniform shirt peeked a navy
blue tee.

He cleared his throat. “Good morning. The
door was open, so I came in.”

Glancing up, Sydney’s eyes glowed with pure
delight when she saw he had arrived. There was no regret in her
expression, which was what he’d dreaded she’d feel. “Hey, Max.” Her
voice was husky. “Great party last night.” Now her eyes danced with
mischief.

Others chimed in about the evening. Then
Brody stood. “You a coffee drinker?”

“Yeah. High test. Black.”

“Take my seat next to Syd. For some reason,
she’s in a great mood today.”

She smiled at Max when he sat. “Daisy slept
soundly through the night. Amber must have tired her out.”

He wanted to ask how she’d slept. Had she
pictured them together in her dreams and when she awoke? Had she
thought about his suggestion that they start seeing each other?
“Amber loved staying with Daisy. Though she said she found several
gift cards for iTunes in her purse. The babysitting was supposed to
be free.”

“It was. Those were exactly what they’re
advertised as—gifts.”

Gabe leaned over in his chair. “So, what’s
first today, Max? The chief took us out of service for ninety
minutes so we could get the information for your magazine issue
rolling.”

Max removed a small laptop from the case he
carried and woke it from sleep. “I’d like to get everyone’s
impression of the rescue. I already wrote mine out right afterward,
so now I need you to fill in the gaps.”

“First off,” Gabe started, “your buddy Cal
stole my gear so he could go in.”

Max’s brows shot up. “He didn’t tell me
that.”

“We’re not broadcasting it. His actions
weren’t protocol. So don’t use the information. I just thought
you’d like to know.”

“I won’t use it. I won’t use anything that
would reflect badly on you guys.” He grinned at Sydney. “And
girls.”

“Cal took Syd and Tony with him toward your
office.” Gabe spoke of thick, black smoke, which, having gotten a
taste of it, Max knew was noxious.

Tony reported how they’d popped the fire
door, and Syd went ahead.

“Who decides which firefighter carries what
tool?” Max asked.

“Usually, we grab them arbitrarily,” Felicia
put in. “But if these guys start getting macho on us, Syd and I
ream them out.”

Brody recounted how pissed they were when the
evacuation horn sounded and they couldn’t get inside the fire door
to Sydney.