Книга - Too Near The Fire

Too Near The Fire
Lindsay McKenna


LIFE SAVERLeah Stevenson was a trained fire fighter, and all she knew when she battled her way through the smoke and flames was that there were lives to be saved.Now two innocent children were trapped inside a burning house, and Gil had trusted her to rescue them. Gil, the one man who believed in her, the man who had broken through her defenses and touched the woman inside. No matter what it cost her, she couldn't let him down. She had to get through the choking, terrifying darkness; somehow Gil's love would bring her out again.







LIFE SAVER

Leah Stevenson was a trained fire fighter, and all she knew when she battled her way through the smoke and flames was that there were lives to be saved.

Now two innocent children were trapped inside a burning house, and Gil had trusted her to rescue them. Gil, the one man who believed in her, the man who had broken through her defenses and touched the woman inside. No matter what it cost her, she couldn’t let him down. She had to get through the choking, terrifying darkness; somehow Gil’s love would bring her out again.


Too Near the Fire






Lindsay McKenna






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Dedicated to:

Lt. Gary “Apache” Amato, who taught me the ropes of firefighting and Firefighter Paul La Neve, who saved my life at a structure fire and The firefighters of West Point Volunteer Fire Department, who opened a new chapter in my life and To all the courageous paid and volunteer women firefighters who battle not only blazes but for their right to save lives equally as well as their male counterparts


Author Note

Dear Reader,

To say I like being a firefighter is an understatement. Serving the people of Ohio, being able to protect and help them, is my greatest thrill. Ohio, for me, offers everything I’ve ever wanted: horseback riding, fishing, lots of trees and plenty of lakes and rivers. It also brought me together with Leah.

Leah Stevenson is the love of my life. Until I met her, I didn’t feel much like living—just surviving. I’d lost my first wife three years earlier, and the will to live sort of got sucked out of me. Firefighting became more than a way of life for me—until Leah stepped into my life that day at the Baybridge Fire Department.

Leah embodies Ohio: kind of reserved and humble, yet filled with a rich sense of self that doesn’t need to be flaunted or bragged about. Ohio and Leah are about a quiet sense of integrity and timeless values that have not broken down with time. It’s not hard to love them both.

Gil Gerard


Table of Contents

Chapter One (#ub4209cb6-caee-5a90-8a1d-6340abdc92b5)

Chapter Two (#u72e3c77a-97c1-54e8-badd-00f428009de4)

Chapter Three (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)


One

The sunlight was brilliant, making Leah squint as she walked out of the shade and around the corner of the two-story redbrick firehouse. The weather was typical of mid-June in Ohio: the humidity matched the high temperature. Her shoulder-length hair was drawn back severely from her oval face. Leah had learned from experience to knot her dark, walnut-colored hair into a chignon at the nape of her neck to keep it from interfering with her fire fighting duties. She slowed in front of the huge garagelike doors that housed the fire engines within the bay, her gaze lingering on the lime-colored trucks. They were all Darley engines, and she recalled with some relief that as a student at the Ohio Fire Academy, she had learned pump procedures on them. Well, at least she was familiar with the equipment—that was one thing in her favor.

Stepping into the office, Leah met a dispatcher who was attired in a light blue, short-sleeved shirt and navy gabardine slacks. Her heart dropped when she saw him scowl. She put on a smile and said, “My name is Leah Stevenson. I’m reporting for work. Is Chief Anders in?”

“Yeah, just a minute,” he growled, and paged the chief. He slowly looked her up and down and Leah silently endured his scornful appraisal. Groaning inwardly, she shoved all her fears, anxieties, and questions to the back of her mind. Right now she had to try to walk a tightrope with Chief Anders. He had opposed her even more strongly than the city administrators who had fought her being hired as a member of the fire department.

Anders came in the other door, his leathery face devoid of any expression. “Stevenson?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Come with me.”

Leah swallowed against the lump forming in her throat and followed him through the quiet bay. She looked off to the left as they walked by a small kitchen. Three firemen looked up with curiosity as she and the chief passed by the door. The shuffle of feet and the scraping of chairs could be heard seconds after their passing. Leah could picture all three of them craning out the door to get their first look at the “lady” fire fighter. Adrenaline surged through her, adding to her shaky feeling.

Anders motioned her into his small, cluttered office. The chief was in his late fifties, a tall spare man who looked more like he belonged behind the wheel of a tractor in some cornfield than here, Leah thought. He was thin and the nervous energy that flowed through him set her on edge as he began to pace behind his dilapidated oak desk.

“Sit down,” he ordered.

Leah sat on the edge of the chair, her back ramrod straight, and carefully placed her purse on her lap. Her heart was hammering as if she were laboring up an eight-foot aerial ladder with an air pak strapped on her back. This was the real war. The ordeal of completing the basic two-hundred-hour fire fighting course at the academy would be child’s play compared to the psychological battle that lay before her now. Her thoughts were interrupted by Anders.

“You got your way, Ms. Stevenson,” he growled, stopping to glare across the room at her. “The mayor says I either take you into the department or our city loses its federal funding. I’ve been a fireman for thirty years and I ain’t ever seen a female fire fighter. No woman can do this job. I don’t give a damn how great your grades were at the academy or how many of your instructors swear by your abilities.”

“All I ask is that you let me have a chance, Chief.”

“All you’re asking me to do is risk the life of one or more of my men so that you can prove me right,” he hurled back.

Her throat ached with tears but she refused to allow her emotions to overwhelm her. “Chief, I’ll be the first to quit if I ever put anyone’s life on the line. That’s a promise.”

Anders stood there regarding her silently for a long, tense minute. “It only takes once, you know. What if you’re in a structure that’s on fire and your partner’s air pak suddenly quits functioning and he can’t get oxygen? What are you gonna do? Go screaming for help like some dizzy broad?”

“No,” Leah replied with a great deal more calm than she felt. “We would buddy breathe off my tank and get out of the building as quickly as possible, Chief.”

“Sounds great on paper,” he snorted, folding his hands and resuming his pacing. “But saying it and doin’ it is two different things, Stevenson.”

Leah managed a small breath of relief. Good, at least he had dropped the Ms. Most chiefs called their fire fighters by the last name. Instead of being offended, she was relieved. She was thankful for her six years of experience in the air force as an air controller: she was used to discipline and to being called by her last name rather than her first.

“I can keep calm in dangerous situations, Chief. I didn’t work in a control tower because I was a dizzy broad. I’m used to keeping my head despite difficult circumstances,” she argued coolly.

“I guess we’re going to find that out, aren’t we?” he railed. “Well, come with me. I’ll show you where you’ll be staying for the next twenty-four-hour period. You get one day on and two days off on the summer schedule. And remember, it’s coed. I don’t have to build you a separate bathroom or shower, Stevenson. You want to enter a man’s world and our job, then you’re gonna use the same facilities we do. Understand?”

Leah picked up her purse. “Yes, sir.”

Anders showed her the upstairs portion of the firehouse, which was fitted with army-type bunks. The sleeping quarters had stairs as well as the standard fire pole to slide down. At the other end were lockers where civilian clothes could be stowed while the fire fighters were on duty. The chief halted in the middle of the highly polished oak floor.

“You get into uniform and then come down to the office when you’re done,” he ordered. He dug in his pocket, thrust a badge into her hand, and then stalked off.

“Yes, sir.” After a quick look around, Leah was relieved to find that all the on-duty firemen were downstairs in the kitchen. The only room that offered a measure of privacy was the bathroom. It was a small area housing two shower stalls, a sink with a cracked mirror above it, and a urinal. Leah slipped into her light blue shirt and navy blue slacks and pinned on the silver badge that Anders had given her. Her fingers lingered over it and she felt warm with pride.

Only officers wore gold badges; the rest of the fire fighters wore the silver ones, indicating their lesser rank. Leah smiled to herself: a silver badge distinguished her as part of the hardworking crew. She would be hauling hoses and ladders, scaling roofs with a hose and fire ax or whatever else was deemed necessary. Normally, the officer directed the fire fighting with his portable radio, but didn’t get personally involved. Nonetheless, she didn’t minimize the officer’s duties. In the end, her life was in his hands. If the officer was a poor one, he could get her killed by ordering her into a situation that was dangerous or unstable. No, a good officer was someone she would go to hell and back for, and she wondered if they had anyone here of the caliber of the instructors down at the Ohio Fire Academy. After hanging her clothes in the only available locker, she shut it and went downstairs.

Leah stopped at the gleaming red door of the chief’s office and knocked politely.

“Enter,” Anders growled through it.

She opened it, almost bumping into another fireman, who was standing just inside the entrance. Fragmented impressions hit her senses. He was an officer—she could tell that by the gold badge displayed above the left breast pocket of his shirt. She was aware of height and broad shoulders. It struck Leah that he looked as if he could easily carry the weight of the world around on them if he chose. She noted the intensity of his blue eyes as he quickly perused her upturned face. Leah somehow got through and closed the door, stepping away from the officer, who remained to her left.

“Stevenson, this is Lieutenant Gil Gerard. You’re being assigned to his crew.”

Leah’s mouth went dry as she turned, her hand extended. “Lieutenant, a pleasure to meet you.”

The officer inclined his head and clasped her hand. “Same here,” he intoned, his voice low and somewhat husky.

Leah’s arm tingled pleasurably. She was aware of the controlled strength of his grasp, of the rough texture of his fingers and the calluses on his palm. She forced a brief, businesslike smile to her lips and broke contact.

“Gil, take her around and show her the ropes,” Anders said, scowling heavily. “And remember what I told you…”

Gil pursed his mouth and opened the door, motioning her out. “Right, Chief.”

Leah glanced up, waiting for him to close it again. She was impressed with his height and excellent physical condition. She guessed that, like herself, he worked out with weights or jogged to stay fit. That discovery made her feel an immediate camaraderie with him. It was something she shared in common with someone here at the firehouse. Lifting her chin, Leah realized he was standing quietly beside her, watching her with veiled curiosity. She met his dark blue eyes and felt heat rising from her throat into her face.

“What do you like to be called?” he asked, walking slowly down the narrow hallway.

She wanted to be flip and answer: I’ve been called just about everything, but you can call me Leah if you want. She fought the urge. She didn’t dare allow humor into this tense situation. Above all else, she wanted to be accepted by the fire fighters. She couldn’t afford to hurt anyone’s feelings at this point. She had learned through harsh experience to be a shadow—seen but not heard. Otherwise the men reacted strongly and negatively to her presence. It was part of the price she paid for deciding to become a woman fire fighter.

“Most people call me Leah. My nickname down at the academy was Cat.”

He tossed a glance over his shoulder. “Is that because you have pretty green eyes?” he asked, a slight smile hovering around his mouth.

Confused, Leah suppressed her own smile. Why was he treating her so nicely? Anders had made it clear that no one welcomed her here—why should Gil Gerard be different. The officer appeared to be in his early thirties, a confident man with an open, readable face. She liked his features: He had black hair, intelligent eyes, a strong nose, and a rock-solid jaw. More than anything, Leah found herself liking his mouth. It wasn’t thin or thick but mobile, expressive, with the corners lifting, indicating that he smiled a great deal. She gave a sigh and her shoulders dropped slightly. In her heart she knew that the officer she was assigned to would either make her or break her.

Meeting Gil’s interested gaze, she realized she still owed him an answer to his question. “I got tagged with that down at the academy because on night exercises I could see hot spots before anyone else. They said I had eyes like a cat, so it stuck. I’d rather be called Leah, though.”

Gil nodded, pursing his mouth. He halted at the bay, putting his hands on his lean hips. “It pays to have good night vision,” he agreed amicably. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to our ladies here in the bay and then show you where we spend most of our time when we aren’t polishing the engines or the floors.”

He missed nothing in proudly showing her the “ladies.” Most fire fighters referred to the trucks as female. The self-contained breathing apparatus, or MSA air paks, were resting on specially constructed steel braces behind the drivers’ seats. When the alarm went off, whoever was assigned to get into air paks would leap into the “jump seats,” slip the gear over their shoulders, belt up, and donning air masks, ready to enter a burning building by the time they arrived on the scene. The air pak enabled a fire fighter to work in a smoke-filled structure without being overcome by the noxious atmosphere or deadly fumes.

Leah caressed the shiny lime fender of one Darley engine with her long, slender fingers as Gil stopped near the front of it. He patted the truck affectionately. “You’ll soon find out we have names for all these gals.”

“And a few curse words, I’ll bet,” she added, smiling hesitantly. There was something about Gil that made her feel safe about letting down her guard and allowing a little bit of her private self to show.

“Well, we have Lady here, and naturally, she is one. She behaves real well no matter what the weather conditions are or how sticky a situation gets at a fire scene.” He walked over to the second pumper. “This one we call the Beast because she always gives her driver a problem. A real cold starter. Won’t cooperate with you at all if she’s throwing one of her fits.” He grinned, his teeth white and even against his darkly bronzed skin. “Just like some women.”

Leah shrugged. “Maybe she just needs a more gentle touch…a little more understanding,” she said hesitantly.

One eyebrow rose in response. “Could be. Did you have much experience driving these rigs down at the academy?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact they had Darleys.”

He nodded. “Good. I’ll keep that in mind. We may need you there if we find ourselves in a bind,” he murmured, sounding pleased.

She frowned. At a paid fire station each fire fighter was assigned a specific job and rarely stepped into any other specialty. If a man was a driver and pump operator on an engine, he always remained in that position. It sounded as though she would be a “gopher,” doing the myriad jobs that were demanded of a fire fighter at a scene, but having no one specialty. Though she didn’t feel comfortable with Gil’s comment, she said nothing as she followed him back to the next pumper.

“This is Molly, our aerial ladder. We’ve got some three- to five-story buildings around here and occasionally we need her services. The last one here is Lizzy and she’s our squad truck. We take her out on extrication runs, medical emergencies, and other miscellaneous duties.” Gil halted, resting his tall frame against the squad truck, and looked at her for a long moment.

“I understand that you specialized in auto extrication down at the academy.”

“Yes, I loved it. I joined a volunteer fire department while I was down at Reynoldsburg and the extrication officer, Harry Billings, sort of took me under his wing and showed me the ropes.”

Gil looked impressed. “Harry’s one of the best,” he agreed, his voice taking on a new tone of respect. “I did all my training under him down at the academy years ago. Did you make any runs?”

“Five,” she admitted, deliberately trying not to recall those scenes. She hadn’t been ready for the blood, the screams of the people trapped inside the wrecked cars. No one had prepared her for the emotional side of the work. She had been sick more than once after the victims had been extricated and were on their way to a hospital in an ambulance. Harry had stoically waited until she was done and then they collected the gear. His only words were: “You’ll get used to it after a while, Leah.” And her returning comment had been: “I doubt it.”

“Blood bother you?” Gil asked, interrupting her thoughts.

How should she answer? If she was honest, it did. But if she owned up to it, he would think her weak and incapable. “No,” she lied.

He reacted as if he’d expected no other answer. “Depending on how you work out here, Leah, I need someone besides myself who can run the extrication equipment. I get called in every time we have that sort of job.” He smiled, and his face lost its momentary seriousness. “I have other things to do during my days off, so maybe we can eventually work out some sort of a system.”

“You get that many calls?” she asked, a little surprised.

Gil nodded. “Yeah, we’re right off a turnpike and a major interstate. And because northeast Ohio is so heavily industrialized, we have more spills of hazardous materials here than in any other part of the state.”

Now it was her turn to raise her eyebrows. “How many fire calls do you get a year?”

“About three hundred fire runs and two hundred miscellaneous ones, including mutual aid with four other volunteer departments that surround our town’s border. We keep pretty busy. You like to fight fires?”

She considered it a silly question. “Of course,” she answered, stung. “I didn’t put myself through the academy for a lark.”

Gil held up both hands. “Easy, I was only wondering.”

She felt a rapport with him and decided to take a chance. “Lieutenant, why aren’t you treating me like the plague? Most fire fighters would.”

He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, shifting his weight to one leg. “A couple of reasons, I guess. One, I’m not from Baybridge originally. Two, I’d like to consider myself open-minded about a woman doing this job.” He frowned. “If you prove to be able to handle the runs, I’ll be a hundred and ten percent behind you. But if you don’t cut it, I’ll be the first to recommend your dismissal,” he warned.

She compressed her lips. He was like all the rest. She would have to be twice as good as any male rookie and make half as many mistakes as any other man who might hold the same job. Well, it was too late to turn back and slink into her old way of life. When she had divorced Jack she had said goodbye to the suffocating lifestyle that she had led for six years.

“Are you saying that the rest of the fire fighters are locals?”

He ran his strong-looking fingers through his hair, pushing a stray strand off his forehead. “They are. As two outsiders, we might even call them clannish and backward,” he admitted ruefully. “This town is an agricultural area for the most part, with a few coal mines and coal trucks thrown in.”

Leah stepped away from him. She was drawn too easily to his quiet magnetism. He was handsome in an interesting way, a way that attracted her and at the same time frightened her. “Why are you being so helpful?” she demanded.

“Until you give me cause to treat you differently, I won’t discriminate on the basis of your sex.”

She eyed him distrustfully. She had run into two types of fire fighter thus far. One type disdained her completely and treated her with angry silence. The other type tried to seduce her, seemingly turned on by the thought of a woman doing a dangerous job. Gil Gerard seemed to be the latter…but she wasn’t sure.

She touched her brow, managing a fleeting smile of apology. “I’m sorry. I’m sure I sound like I’ve got a chip on my shoulder. It’s just that I’ve endured a hell of a lot of chauvinism.”

“Yeah, you got a little chip on your shoulder,” he commented, a slow grin pulling at his mouth. His eyes were dark and sparkled with mirth. “And I do have to admit, I did fight fires with a woman before I joined here, so I have a little more experience in the matter than the rest of the fellas.”

Leah’s eyes widened. “You did?”

Gil shrugged. “I was a volunteer fireman before I joined a paid department.”

“For how long?”

“Five years.”

“And how long have you been paid?”

“Three.”

She stared at him. “And you’ve made officer already?” There was a newfound respect in her voice. Being a fire officer wasn’t some cushy job gotten through political pull. No, the man or woman selected had to have a lot of intelligence and experience to be sending a fire team into unknown and many times dangerous situations.

“I’m good at taking tests,” he said, trying to minimize his credentials, as he led her around to the opposite wall where the turn-out gear was neatly hung.

“You have to be more than a good test taker to get the rank,” she observed seriously, stopping at his shoulder.

“Hmm, I suppose. Let’s try and find some gear that will fit you.” He emphasized the word fit. For the next half hour Leah tried on every coat and every pair of boots and bunker pants in the station. Nothing fit. It was all too large. Especially the boots. She sat on the chair, sliding off the last pair.

“We’ll have to order you an outfit,” Gil acknowledged as he hung the last coat back up on its hook. “Probably take a couple of weeks, if I know our dispatcher.”

Leah looked up at him sharply. “I’m not about to sit out fire calls for that period of time!”

“I wouldn’t let you anyway. For now, let’s get the closest fit, and tomorrow when we’re off duty I’ll take you up to Cleveland and we’ll get you some decent gear. Deal?”

Either he was an angel or he had an angle, Leah decided, mulling over the tempting invitation. She had just rented an apartment and most of her articles were still packed. It wouldn’t be much fun spending the day there alone. Furthermore, she was unacquainted with the area and knew it would be better if he were along. Still…she didn’t want to socialize with anyone here at the station. She had read enough articles in Fire Chief Magazine by women fire fighters to realize that irate wives would probably be calling to see if their husbands were “safe” from the new female at the station. Idly, she looked at his left hand. There was no wedding band there. That didn’t mean anything, though, and Gil had mentioned that he did like his days off. Many times the stress of fire fighting drove a wedge into a family, and divorce was too often the result.

“Well?”

“Oh…sorry, I was thinking. I’d appreciate it, Lieutenant, but I don’t want to take you away from—”

“No problem,” he returned smoothly. “I’ve made it a point to make sure my team has the best protection and the most training possible, and you’ll be no exception to that rule. You can’t effectively do your job in a pair of poorly fitting boots. You’d be falling all over yourself.”

Leah grinned. “That brings back a lot of memories. For the first two weeks at the academy I had a coat that was four sizes too big and boots that came off my feet every time I took a step.”

“You must have been damn good, then,” he praised, “because I got a chance to look at your academy records. Lousy-fitting gear would be enough to put some fire fighters out of commission altogether.”

She put her sensible black shoes back on and then stood up. “I couldn’t let that happen to me. I just gritted my teeth and told myself I was going to do it better than any of them, and I guess I did.”

He tilted his head, studying her in a new light. “I like your aggressiveness, Leah. Come on, let me introduce you to the rest of the crew. It’s almost time to pick straws to see who makes dinner tonight.” The other three fire fighters looked up when Gil escorted her into the kitchen-and-dining area. Leah automatically tensed, sensing the coldness in the air.

“Fellas, this is Leah Stevenson, our new member. She’s got eyes like a cat, from what she tells me.” He pointed to a small wiry man who had dark hair and eyes and an olive complexion. “This is Tony DiGeronimo, but everyone calls him Apache even though he’s Italian because no one can pronounce his last name in a hurry. He’s been on board for seven years and is one hell of a fire fighter.”

Tony sized her up. “Welcome aboard,” he said, smiling openly.

“And this good-looking string bean is Sam Wilson. He’s our driver and pump operator. He’s been on board for fifteen years and there isn’t a thing he doesn’t know about Darley pumps.”

Sam managed a sour grin, nervously turning his coffee mug in his hands, his lanky arms on the table. “Except for the Beast out there.”

She smiled shyly, trying desperately to appear relaxed beneath the men’s intense scrutiny. “Hi, Sam.”

Gil motioned to his right toward a man who was scowling darkly at her. “This is Duke Saxon and he’s been with us for three years. I think he’s been involved in about every dangerous structure fire we’ve ever made a run on. Always been at the wrong place at the right time.”

Duke stared in her direction; his black eyes were vicious looking. He was a huge, heavily muscled man, and it was clear he resented her presence.

Gil pulled out a chair for her. “Have a seat, Leah. How about some coffee?”

She turned. “That would be great. Thanks.”

“Since when did you ever wait on any of us?” Duke growled.

The rest of the fire fighters laughed nervously as Gil walked nonchalantly to the draining board and pulled down a cup. “If you were as good-looking, Duke, I might have done the same for you,” Gil retorted, his smile fixed. There was an unspoken warning in his look.

Leah sensed an immediate antagonism between the two men. Great, she thought, that’s all I need, to walk into the middle of a sparring session between an officer and a fire fighter. She thanked Gil nervously as he placed the cup in front of her, then took a quick sip and burned her tongue.

“Okay, who’s cooking today?” Gil asked, leaning against the draining board.

Duke snorted. “Let her.”

She raised her head, meeting his black glare. “I wasn’t hired as chief cook and bottle washer, Duke. I’ll take my turn like everyone else.”

The silence froze around them like brittle ice. Leah heard Gil sigh as he came over to the table. There was a deck of cards on the table and he picked them up, spreading them into a fanlike position. “Okay, everyone pick a card. Low man—that is, person—will be cook and bottle washer for the shift.”

To Leah’s relief, Apache got the two of hearts and he growled, getting to his feet.

“Okay, guys, you’re gettin’ spaghetti and meatballs—again,” he warned.

Sam Wilson groaned. “Give me the Rolaids now….”

The fire fighters kept up their banter all evening, excluding her unless Gil made a concerted effort to include her in the conversation. Leah sat in one of the old frayed chairs and watched television with the rest of them, but she wasn’t really listening to it. Her heart was filled with pain at the undercurrent of bitterness the men felt toward her. Duke made no bones about it at all and Sam ignored her as if she didn’t exist.

Wanting something to do, Leah got up and went out into the semilighted bay, walking around each engine to begin familiarizing herself with the equipment and where it was stowed. Each compartment held some particular instrument that might be needed on a moment’s notice at the scene of a fire. In one, all the electrical cords, a fan, and extra outlets were stored. In the rear of the main pumper were several spare air bottles. During a hot blaze, a fire fighter could go through two or three cylinders; each tank only contained thirty minutes’ worth of air supply, and fighting fire made a person breathe deeply and heavily because of the physical exertion.

She had spent more than a half hour out in the bay alone when she heard someone walking up behind her. Turning, she saw it was Duke Saxon.

“Whatya doing, trying to impress the lieutenant by being gung ho?” he sneered.

Leah moistened her lips and ordered her body to remain relaxed although her heart was hammering wildly in her chest. She lifted her chin and met his hooded stare.

“I don’t have to impress anyone.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“Look, it’s pretty obvious you don’t want me around here, and I can live with that,” she began tightly.

“Bet you had to live with that down at the academy, too. You may be a good-lookin’ broad, but that don’t make you no fireman, honey. Hell, if you weigh over one-forty, I’ll quit the force.”

“Weight’s got nothing to do with it,” she countered icily.

“Like hell it don’t. You tryin’ to tell me that if I get in trouble in a burning structure and you gotta drag me out with air pak on that you can do it? I weigh close to three hundred pounds with all that gear on.” He snorted, his eyes narrowing. “No way, honey, no way.” He raised his finger, pointing at her. “But I’m gonna tell you something and it had better stick the first time around—you screw up with me and it will be your last day on the force.”

Her body was galvanized with fury. “I’ll remember that, Saxon,” she promised, her voice barely above a whisper.

“You do that, honey. Sam and Apache feel the same. None of us wants you around here except that damn lieutenant of ours.” Duke shook his head. “He’s an outsider like you are, so what the hell does he know?”

“Stevenson?” It was Gil’s voice ringing through the bay. She gasped softly, turning in his direction. Through the dimness she saw his head and broad shoulders, looking incredibly strong in the shadows. Saxon gave her one last glare and turned away, then melted back into the darkness, avoiding Gil completely.

“Listen, before you turn in tonight I want—” he stopped, frowning. “You all right?”

“Yeah, sure,” she muttered.

Gil looked around and then back at her. “You look pale,” he observed.

“It’s nothing,” she ground out. “Now what is it you want me to do?”

He handed her several manuals. “If you need some bedtime reading, here are the rules and regulations of the department. If we have to make a run tonight I’m going to hold you back and let you play gopher. I’ll be working up a training schedule for you in the next week so that I can get acquainted with your weak and strong points.” He appraised her closely. “You’re pretty good at hiding things, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.

Startled by the concern in his voice, Leah reacted more strongly than she had intended. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He leaned against the engine, one hand resting on the side of his head. “I saw Duke sneaking back to the kitchen, so I figured you had a run-in with him. He’s not known for mincing his words and he holds a real macho attitude toward women in general. You know the type—keep them barefoot and pregnant.”

Leah felt her body trembling with repressed anger and she found no humor in his statement. She remained silent beneath his scrutiny, feeling acutely uncomfortable.

“Look,” he began heavily, “if you’re having trouble with any of these guys, let me know.”

She nearly laughed. “And rat on them? That’s great, Lieutenant. I’m sure that will go over big. No, thanks. I learned down at the academy to take my lumps and keep my mouth shut.”

Gil frowned and stood upright. “That may have worked well down there, Stevenson, but it won’t here. This is a permanent job for you and you’ll probably be with this crew for at least a year. I want to stop any problems before they get started. And I don’t consider your coming to me as ratting. It’s my job to make sure my crew works as a smooth unit not only for your sake, but for the safety of the people we rescue as well.”

She moved restlessly away from him, wanting to believe him but afraid to. “I’ll work it out my own way,” she said, then turned and went upstairs to the bunk room.

* * *

It was nearly eleven when she closed the manual, unable to stop the words from blurring before her eyes. She sighed and sat up on the edge of her bunk. There were five beds: three on one side and two on the other. It was quiet and the silence only emphasized the loneliness Leah felt. She looked slowly around the small room, feeling terribly bereft. Going back downstairs she pulled her boots and bunker pants from beneath her coat and helmet and carried them up to the sleeping quarters. Dutifully arranging the black canvas bunker pants so that they would be accessible in case of an alarm, she shortened the red suspenders for her height. After taking a pair of cotton pajamas and her robe and toilet articles, she went into the shower room. Leah was sure that the rest of the men would wait until she was safely in bed before coming up.

By midnight she was snuggled into her bunk beneath a light sheet. She lay awake, staring into the darkness. Her first job…and no one except Lt. Gil Gerard cared if she was here or not. And he seemed to think of her as one more management problem he would have to deal with. She sighed softly, her heart aching over the idiocy of it all.

What was wrong with these thick-headed firemen? She was perfectly capable of doing the job and helping to save lives. And wasn’t that what it was all about? Saving lives and property? Who the hell cared if it was a man or a woman who did the saving? Did the child she’d rescued last month care that she was a woman? And what about the old man with a heart attack to whom she had administered CPR? Or the man she’d cut out of a mangled car whose bleeding she had staunched until paramedics could arrive? Leah took a deep, unsteady breath, finally closing her eyes. Why didn’t they see the motivation behind her actions? She didn’t want to invade a man’s world; she wanted only to be given the chance to work at something that gave her a sense of accomplishment.


Two

Leah was violently thrown awake by the fire alarm droning through the bunk room. The lights automatically came on, and she threw her legs across the bed and climbed into her bunker pants and boots. She gave no thought to how she looked in her cotton pajama top as she made a leap for the pole, slid neatly down it, and landed quickly on the first floor.

CAR ACCIDENT AT THE CORNER OF CARSON AND FORBES, a disembodied voice announced over the loudspeaker set in the bay.

She could hear the men calling to one another as she quickly shrugged into her black coat and threw the heavy visored helmet on her head. Duke Saxon whipped past her, running for his gear. She turned and was confronted by Gil. His eyes were narrowed and she could see him thinking out the situation. The squad truck was fired up and so was the Darley pumper called Lady. The officer looked directly at her.

“You ride shotgun with me in the squad. Duke, you and Apache get into air pak,” he ordered calmly.

She trotted to the squad and slid into the passenger side. Before getting in to drive, Gil started up the air compressor in the rear of the squad truck. Leah automatically reprimanded herself. She should have been doing that instead of him.

The bay was filled with the sound of roaring engines, the flash of whirling red-and-white lights as they drove out into the hot, humid night. Gil pointed to the radio.

“Say ‘Squad Fifty-One Signal Twelve,’” he ordered.

She nodded, picked up the mike, and repeated the message. Blinking, Leah put it back on the clip, her lips set in a thin line as the siren wailed through the empty streets of the sleeping town.

“How far away is this accident?” she asked, her voice strangely husky with adrenaline.

“Five miles.”

“Any idea of how bad a wreck it is?”

“No. Dispatch said it was called in by the state police.”

She nodded, automatically going over the various types of equipment that might be utilized in this kind of situation.

“When we get to the scene I want you to stand by here at the squad. I hope like hell it’s a simple extrication, but you never know. Apache and Duke will pull off the inch and a half and approach the car first. If there’s fire they’ll knock it down, then be ready to cover us during the extrication. We don’t want any sparks to start a fire and blow us all away.”

Leah felt her heart pumping strongly and she pulled her heavy fire-retardant gloves on a little tighter. Like the rest of her gear, they didn’t fit and she shook her head. All she needed was a pair of bumbling hands while she was trying to work at top speed.

As they drew up on a lonely farm road, Leah spotted the white state trooper car, its light flashing forlornly in the night. Gil took the mike off the hook and ordered the engine to halt before it got to the wreck. He glanced at Leah.

“Stay here,” he ordered, then climbed out and trotted up to the scene of the accident to assess the situation.

Tightening her helmet strap against her chin until it was snug, she realized with a sinking sensation that it was a bad wreck. The entire front end of a red Buick had been smashed as it hit a utility pole. The car had come to rest in a wide, deep ditch and now looked like a folded accordion. She saw Gil raise the portable radio to his mouth and almost immediately was aware of Apache and Duke trotting forward with a charged inch and a half line. That meant fire and perhaps a gasoline spill. Her heartbeat increased. It meant twice the danger. Once positioned, Apache opened the nozzle, sending a semi-fog stream beneath the rear of the auto.

Gil returned at a steady trot and slid back into the squad. Leah glanced tensely over at him.

“What have we got?” She surprised herself. She had used the word we. Wasn’t that what fire fighting was all about…teamwork? If he noticed her use of the word, he said nothing.

“Got a drunken teenager with his legs pinned beneath the steering wheel. He’s unconscious,” he muttered tightly. He threw the squad into gear and moved just close enough to string the compressor lines to the smoldering wreck. The truck was kept at a safe distance in case the car exploded. It was senseless to wreck expensive equipment.

Leah got out, shading her eyes as the pumper’s quartz lights flashed on. The chatter of the portable generator in the side compartment of the engine added to the cacophony of sounds. A glare of surrealistic light enveloped the accident scene. The other two fire fighters were hosing down the rear of the mangled car, forcing the leaking gasoline away from the area and diluting it with the water. Gil handed her the chisel and a pry bar.

“That door is jammed. We’ve got to get it open. I’ll bring the come-a-long and the other gear.”

The trooper at the scene helped them, and within moments they were set up. Her heart rate was high, her knees shaky with adrenaline. The sharp odor of gas stung her nostrils. Gil came up.

“Cut through the door handle,” he ordered. She was glad her visor was down as Apache and Saxon approached, spraying a fine mist of water over her. The droplets blanketed her head and shoulders as she got ready to cut. The water would reduce the chance of a stray spark starting a fire. Placing the power chisel against the metal, she started it and a reverberating sound rent the air. Leah leaned her weight into the chisel, cutting through the thinner metal of the door around the handle. She prayed that it would be possible to manipulate the inner door mechanism so that they wouldn’t have to literally tear the door off its hinges.

“Leah?” Gil called.

She finished the job and quickly set aside the chisel. After kneeling down and peeling back the metal, she took a flashlight from her pocket and studied the mechanism. She was vaguely aware of Gil leaning over. Shakily she reached into the door, jerking at one of the long bars. They both heard a distinct click and Gil straightened up, ordering her to stand back. He gave the door one good yank and it fell open.

“Good work,” he praised. “Make a hole in the front windshield so we can get the come-along around the steering wheel.”

She struggled with her ill-fitting boots as she moved gawkily around in the darkness to the other side of the car.

“His pulse is weak,” the trooper shouted, leaning in through the passenger window to help cover the driver with a wool blanket.

Leah staggered into the ditch, pitching forward, one boot having slipped halfway off her foot.

“Come on, Stevenson!” Saxon yelled, making an angry gesture with his free arm. “Hurry it up!”

Leah pushed back her helmet, which had tipped forward, and struggled to her feet, embarrassment flooding her. As she reached the other side she took the pointed end of the pry bar and made an oblong hole along the passenger side of the windshield. That done, Gil passed another wool blanket through his side of the glass to her. Leah grabbed it, getting ready to jerk it outward and away from the inert driver.

“Keep him covered,” Gil told the trooper. The trooper nodded and pulled the protective blanket over the boy’s head.

“Go ahead,” the officer yelled, and turned his head away to protect himself from flying glass.

Gil glanced up. “Count of three, Leah.”

The windshield came out cleanly with one good jerk. The glass popped outward, dancing across the hood and splintering on the ground. As swiftly as she could, Leah came around to the driver’s side and helped station the come-a-long across the mangled hood of the car. The trooper stood clear while she wrapped the heavy chain around the steering column three times and rehooked it outside the windshield. She could hear the wail of an ambulance approaching as she leaned into the driver’s side of the car, focusing her flashlight on the teenager. Leah heard him groan and put her gloved hand on his shoulder to steady him.

“Go ahead,” she called to Gil, “start tightening it. I’ll let you know when his legs are free.” The boy moaned once again and Leah divided her attention between him and the steering column. The chains grew taut, creaking and straining, and the steering column slowly yielded to the five thousand pounds of pressure being applied by the come-a-long. She automatically shielded the boy with her body, wanting to protect him in case the chain or any part of the equipment snapped and flew loose. A broken chain could be deadly and she didn’t want the driver injured any more than he was already.

“It’s moving,” she reported. “Another two inches and we’ll have it.”

The trooper had moved back to the passenger side, and now he crawled in carefully through the open window. “Here, I got the short backboard and a neck collar from your driver,” he offered.

Sweat ran down into her eyes and she blinked them, trying to get rid of the smarting sensation. “Thanks. You just steady the kid when the rest of that pressure comes off his thighs,” she directed.

“Say…you aren’t—”

Leah grinned, her face glistening with perspiration. “Yeah, I’m a woman.” She applied the surgical collar to keep the boy’s neck stabilized in case he had sustained a spinal injury.

The trooper said nothing, expertly sliding the backboard between the driver and the seat after she had fastened the collar. Leah could feel the trickle of sweat running down her rib cage and had a wild desire to scratch it. She lowered her head, watching Gil as he bore down with all his weight against the handle of the come-a-long. In one part of her mind she thanked God he was turning out to be as good a fire officer as she had thought he would be.

Just as the last of the mangled steering column came off the boy’s thighs, Leah sat up, facing the semiconscious driver. She pushed up the protective plastic visor of her helmet. The smell of gasoline and alcohol filled her senses.

The trooper flashed his light down on the boy’s legs. “He’s coming around,” was all he said.

Leah was in the process of getting out of her kneeling position when the boy screamed, flailing his arms wildly. His hand caught her solidly in the nose and she was slammed backward, tumbling out of the car head first. Leah scrambled blindly to her knees and reached out to grab the boy’s arms. Adrenaline surged through her and she shouted at the trooper to grab his right arm while she tackled the left.

“It’s okay, okay,” she breathed heavily against the boy’s ear. With her left hand, she placed her glove against his shoulder. “You’re safe, safe…you hear me…everything’s going to be all right,” she crooned. She had seen many teenagers who mixed alcohol with drugs. They would often become wild and hysterical upon regaining consciousness. This kid was no exception.

Leah gritted her teeth, using the leverage of her body to control his wild movements. “Lieutenant—” she yelled, seeing that the trooper had no room to maneuver properly to keep the kid down. She didn’t want to hurt the boy, but at the same time, she knew he could do further damage to himself if she let him flail wildly around in the car. Gil appeared from the right, his face tense and grim.

“Okay,” he ordered huskily, “we’ll both hold him until the ambulance people can get up here. They’re bringing the stretcher now. Apache, I smell more gas. Get back there and hose the area down again.”

She was sobbing for breath as she struggled with the boy. “You’re going to be fine,” she said softly. “Just fine. In a few minutes we’ll have you on your way to the hospital….”

Her voice finally began to have a soothing effect. He suddenly stopped wrestling and leaned back, his eyes wide and dilated. Gil sucked in a deep breath of air.

“You’re okay, son. Can you hear me?”

“Ahhh, man, let me outa here! I don’t need no hospital. I’m okay.”

Leah tightened her grip on the boy’s shoulder and looked sharply at Gil, who was inches away. He met her glance and gave her a momentary nod. So much was conveyed in that one look, it was as though for a moment they had read each other’s minds. In another two minutes the boy had fainted and the paramedics were on hand to take command of the situation. Gil slid his hand beneath her arm and helped her stand.

Her knees were surprisingly shaky and she leaned against his strong body. Faintness swept over her and she called his name, her voice sounding very far away. She was aware of his arm sliding around her body. Her head lolled back against his shoulder and she closed her eyes, surrendering to the pain shooting up toward her brow.

“Leah!” he whispered, lowering her gently to the pavement. Gil anxiously searched her drawn features in the glaring light provided by the pumper. She was semi-conscious, trying to raise her hand toward her face. “No,” he ordered softly, gripping her hand. Cradling her against his body, he removed the helmet from her head. His heart beat heavily in his chest as he realized how much pain she was experiencing. In that moment Gil was aware of another feeling. He admired her courage. Even now she wouldn’t whimper or moan aloud. He yanked off his glove and cupped her chin, which was beginning to swell. He twisted to the left and yelled for Apache.

Apache trotted over. “What happened?” he asked, kneeling down beside Leah.

“That damn kid hit her in the face when he became conscious. You take her helmet, Apache. I’ll carry her over to the cab of the pumper. Have Sam get the first-aid kit out.” Worriedly he looked her over. “We may have to get her to the hospital if her nose is broken.”

Apache grimaced as he quickly rose to his feet. “This is the thanks we get for saving that kid’s life. Great. Just great.”

Leah drew in a ragged breath as pain jabbed her temple. She was aware of Gil’s body pressed against her, aware of the drumlike beat of his heart against her ear as he rested her head on his broad chest. She tried desperately to fight off the faintness, but the pain made it difficult. Gil gathered her into his arms, lifting her upward. “I wanted to hold you, but this is a hell of a way to get the chance to do it,” he murmured, humor tinging his husky voice.

She had never felt so safe as in Gil’s strong arms. She rested her head on his shoulder as he carried her toward the pumper. The voices of the other fire fighters drifted in and out. Eventually, Leah became aware that she was in the warmth of the cab. Gil kept one arm around her shoulders so she wouldn’t fall sideways or forward, possibly injuring herself further. His breath was warm and moist against her face as he leaned over, cleaning her lips and jaw.

Leah sat perfectly still, amazed at how gentle he could be with those large, well-shaped hands. Her hair, once knotted securely, had unraveled, the dark tresses spilling across her shoulders.

“Take it easy, babe,” Gil soothed, carefully blotting away the blood. “Here,” he instructed as he placed a cloth in her right hand, “hold this against your nose. I’m going to do a little pressing on the bridge to see if you’ve broken it.” He leaned closer, his eyes dark and shadowed as he surveyed her. “You know something,” he went on as if conversationally discussing the weather, “you’re good-looking even in turn-out gear.” He grinned, carefully examining the bridge of her nose. “Hurt?”

“No,” she mumbled. The bleeding was finally beginning to lessen. Her heart pulsed strongly each time he grazed her skin. She opened her eyes, looking up into his concerned, handsome features. There was an incredible gentleness about him as he worked. It served to relax her. Her mind was still foggy and she struggled to remember the conversation he had had with her out on the road. Had he really said he wanted to hold her? Leah chided herself for the feeling of excitement that swept through her. She couldn’t afford to get involved with anyone at the fire department. And especially not the man who was caring for her at this moment. Leah yearned to rest her head against his shoulder, close her eyes, and feel safe, but that was impossible.

Gil was satisfied. “Doesn’t look broken,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

Leah wanted to say: I feel safe in your arms. Instead, she rolled her head to the left, meeting his intense gaze. “Fine. Really, I can make it now.”

A partial smile pulled at his well-shaped mouth. His blue eyes took on a bemused gleam. “Hey,” he chided softly, “I’m your friend, remember? I’m not out to prove you can’t make it as a fire fighter. Now, let’s try this one more time. How are you feeling?”

Leah was grateful that the cab was semidark or he would have seen her blushing. “I’ve got a horrible headache and my jaw feels swollen.”

His grin broadened and he gave her a gentle embrace. “That’s more like it. Feel like walking back to the squad with me?”

Leah’s heart soared with unexplained happiness. She gave a hesitant nod. Holding the sterile gauze against her nose, Gil helped her out of the cab. The other three fire fighters gathered around, concern written on their sweaty faces. One part of her wanted to be independent of Gil. Were they thinking she was weak? She couldn’t bear the thought and tried to walk under her own power. Gil placed a protective arm around her waist, forcing her to lean against him.

“You okay, Leah?” Apache asked, the first to come up.

“Yeah,” she answered, “just a bad nosebleed.”

The Italian fireman reached out, giving her a careful pat on her shoulder. “I was watching you during the extrication. You did a hell of a good job. If that kid had punched me in the running lights, I’d have hit him back. You did good under the circumstances.”

Leah managed a weak smile. “Thanks, Apache. It means a lot to me.”

“How are you holding up?” Gil asked, leaning down to inspect her face as they walked down the highway toward the squad.

“All I want to do now is get back and take a hot shower.”

Gil slowed his stride to match her own. “You’re going to need a steak, too. Your left eye is swollen. It ought to be black by tomorrow morning.”

Leah groaned. “Just what I need.”

He opened the door for her and then slid into the driver’s seat. “When the local reporter comes down tomorrow morning to check on our runs, he’ll see you and think we beat you up.”

The ambulance had already left with the injured driver and a wrecker had arrived and was pulling the remains of the car out of the ditch.

Leah hesitantly returned his smile and shut the door. She cradled her helmet in her hands, allowing her head to rest against the rear of the cab.

Gil snapped off the beacon lights. He loosened his helmet and handed it to her. She took it without another word, staring down at the yellow color. Lieutenants always wore yellow turn-out gear and helmets; assistant chiefs wore red and the chief wore white. Gil put the truck in gear and started back toward town. Suddenly he smiled, his even white teeth stark against the sweat and grime on his face. “Just sit back and relax now. I’ll take good care of you.”

“You really don’t have to make such a fuss over me,” she protested.

“Lady, you’re worth making a fuss over, believe me.”

The words pleased her and Leah did as she was ordered. Watching Gil through half-closed eyes, she found it hard not to stare at him. Normally, men did not arouse her curiosity or, indeed, any sort of emotional reaction. Jack had seen to that, she thought bitterly. She took in Gil’s clean profile, marveling at the strength stamped in his features. Yet he had shown her he was capable of gentleness, too. Every time she remembered his touch, her body automatically responded. It puzzled her. She barely knew the man.

Gil broke the pleasant silence after a few minutes. He turned to glance at her in the darkness. “Hell of a note,” he said wryly. “On your first run you get hit.” He smiled. “Figure it out—we save a kid’s life and you get punched.”

A grin edged her lips; a feeling of pride swelled in her breast. “It was worth every bit of pain and embarrassment,” she assured him. “A life was saved and that’s all that matters to me.”

He reached out, hesitantly touching her hair, running his fingers down the silken tresses. “Your life matters too, you know.” His eyes became cobalt colored as he said, “Next time, Leah, don’t put yourself in such a vulnerable position when you know the driver is either on drugs or alcohol. He might have hit you in the eye and blinded you.” He shook his head, a mournful note in his voice. “God, you have beautiful eyes. I’d hate to see anything happen to them.” He rested his hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “You just be more careful” was all he said.

Her eyes widened with disbelief. Leah couldn’t tear her gaze from his. He cared. He truly cared what happened to her. To her surprise, tears filled her eyes. She quickly looked away, hoping the darkness would hide them. “I’ll try,” she mumbled.

“Why don’t you rest,” he suggested.

“No, thanks,” she murmured.

“You don’t have to play tough when we’re by ourselves,” he said, glancing over at her.

Leah gave him a startled look. “What?”

“Give in and rest. I’m not going to call you weak just because others might. You put in a good performance on short notice. You deserve the downtime.”

The huskiness in his voice sent another tingle of pleasure through her tired, aching body. “You should have let me help clean up,” she muttered.

“Why? You did your share of assigned duties. You don’t have to be a superwoman.”

She grinned tiredly. “No, but it sure helps if you’re a woman in the fire service.”

“Don’t push yourself so hard,” he coaxed huskily. “You did a good job. Matter of fact, the state trooper at the site was Sergeant Mike Ryan, and he’s back there shaking his head in disbelief.”

“Oh?”

“Didn’t realize you were a woman until you started soothing that kid by talking to him. He said you did one hell of a job. And believe me, Ryan’s a hard case to work with at an accident scene.”

Her heart swelled with joy but she tried to control her reactions. “It takes more than one extrication to make you good,” she returned soberly. “When I have a few more under my belt, I’ll feel a lot more confident than I did out there tonight.”

“If you weren’t confident, it didn’t show.” He scratched his head. “I underestimated you.”

“In what way?”

“You’re a lot harder to read than I first thought. Make me a promise, Leah?”

She stared at him. “What kind?” she asked tentatively.

“You’re defensive, but I guess I don’t blame you. I’m not asking, but ordering you, to report to me if there’s ever a time in the future when you get injured. Don’t try and fake it, okay? It’s necessary to work as a team, and it’s important to communicate your full condition. Don’t downplay it because of your bullheadedness.”

“I’m not stubborn,” she flared. “I learned the hard way down at the academy that if you showed any emotion you were considered weak. And if a fireman thinks you’re weak, he won’t work with you or—worse—he’ll try to take over.” She sat back, staring moodily into the darkness. “You don’t learn much if someone is always taking over, Lieutenant.”

“Call me Gil. And somehow, I doubt that you let too many male rookies take over for you down there,” he drawled. “Now, you want to make me that promise?”

She remained quiet for a long time, mulling it over in her aching head. If she could trust what she saw, Gil Gerard was one hundred and ten percent behind her. He actually seemed excited about her performance and that gave her a needed boost of confidence. She found herself liking him more than she should. But then, he was such a damn likable man. Could he be trusted? She recalled a rookie student at the academy who had gotten her trust and then ended up embarrassing her badly in front of the whole class. She couldn’t afford to have that happen here. No, she would be living in this town and working here. She couldn’t make those kinds of mistakes any longer.





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