Hard to Resist - By Kara Lennox Page 0,18

your new digs? We can make a game of it. We can appoint Samantha as your official fire safety marshal. I think we have toy badges and hats for that sort of thing—I can check.”

Kat hesitated. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. What if talking about fire makes it worse? Last night, she was so afraid she made me sleep with her.”

“The more she understands about what causes fires and how to prevent them, the more secure she’ll feel.” Ethan knew that firsthand. He’d previously worked in construction. At one job site, he’d been up on a high floor of a skyscraper installing drywall, when suddenly smoke had engulfed his work area. He’d been forced to grope his way to a stairwell, scared out of his mind. He’d never wanted to be that frightened again, and that was what had first given him the idea of joining the fire department. Know the enemy.

“That’s what my staff psychologist said, too.” Kat drew a deep breath in and sighed, gathering control of her emotions.

There were no more tears, for which Ethan was extremely grateful. He could face a wall of flame, a room of smoke and fierce temperatures. But not a crying female, not when he didn’t know how to help.

The door banged open and Captain Campeon appeared, looking like a thunderstorm personified. “Basque, what are you doing out here?”

“Showing our guest some hospitality, sir,” Ethan answered without hesitation. One thing he’d learned about the captain—he hated timidity or any show of weakness.

“Put that dog back where it belongs. Don’t you have work to do?”

“Yes, sir,” Ethan said, throwing a wink toward Kat, who’d started moving toward Samantha the moment Campeon had appeared. Samantha looked toward her mother, her face tight again, obviously not liking the raised voice.

“Sorry, this is my fault,” Kat said, taking Samantha’s hand while Ethan grabbed the pup and returned it to its mother. “I didn’t mean to keep anyone from his job. I know you all have important work to do.”

Oh, yeah, scrubbing grout was a real public-safety must-do. Ethan wanted to argue that nothing was her fault, that Campeon was being his usual stiff-necked jerk. But firefighters who valued their careers didn’t argue with their captains in front of civilians—or at any other time, for that matter.

“I’ll walk you back to your car,” Ethan said. He wanted just another minute or two with Kat, minus the captain staring down his nose at them.

Campeon stepped forward. “Would you still like that tour of the fire station?” he asked grudgingly.

Kat looked down at Samantha, who shook her head. “I think maybe we’ll save that for another day.”

Campeon nodded his understanding.

“My car’s right there,” Kat said to Ethan, pointing toward the parking lot. “You don’t have to walk us. But, Ethan…?”

“Yes?”

“Maybe the safety inspection is a good idea.”

He nodded, suddenly tongue-tied, with Campeon staring poison darts at him. Then Kat and Samantha were gone.

All right, then. He was making headway. Samantha still looked at him as if he were the Creature from the Black Lagoon and refused to talk to him, but at least she hadn’t gone into a screaming panic when she saw him this time.

Feeling pretty good, as if he could tackle all the mildew in a small tropical country, Ethan reentered the common room—only to be greeted by an ugly mob.

“Ohhh, Ethan,” Otis Granger trilled in his best falsetto. He’d put a string mop over his head. “Will you show me your big fireman muscles?” He batted his eyelashes and pretended to swoon.

“Ohhh, Ethan,” Jim Peterson said, attempting a breathy Marilyn Monroe imitation. “I just love the way you swing that hose!” At this, four or five other guys fell into hopeless hysterics.

“All right, you guys, break it up. I just wanted to show the little girl Daisy’s pups, okay?” He endured a few more catcalls and off-color comments before facing a really scary proposition—Priscilla, in chocolate withdrawal.

She stood blocking his way into the bathroom hallway. “Where’s my brownie?”

“I didn’t get one, either. Talk to those piranhas in there. They’re the ones who reduced a pan of brownies to crumbs in less than thirty seconds.”

“And they were good, too,” someone taunted.

“Crumbs? We left crumbs? I don’t think so,” another firefighter added.

“I’d rescue a woman every day of my life, if she’d bake for me,” Otis called out. “But not you, Prissy. We know you wouldn’t bake.”

“Naw, she’d hire someone to bake for her.”

Priscilla yelled out a good-natured response, after which things died down and everyone