JOHN WATCHED HER JOG OFF, admiring the way her long, inky-black braid bounced, almost touching her firm round ass. She had an amazing body, a rare combination of athleticism and womanly curves. He couldn’t help but imagine her naked and shivering, held tight in his arms.
“Ahh, Shannon O’Shea, you’re going to be trouble, damn it all to hell,” he muttered under his breath. He’d known it the moment he laid eyes on her. Tall and strong and incredibly sexy, she had eyes bluer than the California sky. And what would that thick mass of raven-dark hair look like, spread loose on a white pillow? His body responded before he could get his imagination reined in.
Back off, Johnny boy, he cautioned himself silently. There’s too much resting on this job to jeopardize it over a woman. She’s not your sort, regardless of how she makes your blood boil. And you’re only here for the job, so keep that in mind. You’ll be gone in a few short weeks if everything goes right.
Honesty. She’d said she wanted that quality in a man. And of course that was the last thing he could give her.
When she turned a corner, he gave his head a rueful shake and closed the door. Then he went back to the bar to pick up his half-finished mug of beer.
He’d love to head back to the motel—it had been a long, tiring day. But instead he walked into the function room where the others had gone. There were things he needed to know, and the best place to find them out was by listening as the firemen talked.
Booze loosened tongues as well as inhibitions. Loose lips sink ships, one of his mother’s low-life lovers used to say. He’d forgotten which asshole that was, there’d been so many.
FOR A WHILE THERE, Shannon had forgotten about the mess her house was in. Climbing up the ramp to the kitchen door reminded her. At least Willow wasn’t home, which was a relief. Shannon fed the dogs and was heating up a frozen casserole her mother had given her when someone banged on the kitchen door.
Cleo and Pepsi went into a barking frenzy. Shannon had to wade through them to open the door.
“Hey, Shannon.” Her oldest brother, Patrick, gave her a quick hug. “What’s up with the stairs? They fall off the house?”
“The stairs are the least of it. Wait till you see the rest. C’mon in. You had dinner yet? Mom gave me one of those shepherd pie things, and there’s lots for both of us.”
She scowled at the dogs, who were now doing their best to gain Patrick’s attention. He knew Pepsi, so he neatly sidestepped when the dog raised a leg.
“Hey, Pepsi, you old reprobate. Hello, Cleo.” Patrick patted each of them in turn. “I thought you’d have the black Lab from the fire living here. I saw the television clip of the two of you.”
“You and the rest of the western world,” Shannon groaned. “I’ve been in worse fires, and not a shred of publicity. But get a big old dog in the picture, and you’re poster girl for the whole darn department. We named him Salvage, by the way.” She opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of wine. “Want some?”
“Sure. Wow, I see what you mean about the wreckage. Look at those counters.” He loosened his tie and took off his suit jacket. “Did you just feel the need to smash something, or is there a reason for all this?”
“I made the mistake of telling Willow she could do some carpentry. She’s a dangerous woman.”
“I just came from a council meeting. If you think Willow’s dangerous, you oughta try some of those people.”
Patrick had been mayor of Courage Bay for less than a year, but already his influence was being felt. He had a way of cutting through sludge to get to the central issues, and he had zero tolerance for anything less than the absolute truth. Sometimes she wondered why she couldn’t meet guys a little like her brothers.
Although sizewise, she’d met one today. She figured John Forester could hold his own quite well in a size and strength match with the O’Shea brothers.
She poured them each a glass of wine and set the table.
“I dropped by the hospital to see how Sam was doing,” Patrick said. “That was bad business, that warehouse fire.”
“How is he?”
“They’re letting him out in a couple days. That leg injury’s pretty serious—compound fracture. He’s liable to be laid up awhile. He says his arm’s okay, but he’s got a hell of a gash on his shoulder. He and Dan are lucky to be alive, if you ask me.”
Shannon nodded. “I’ll say. Did he say anything about the explosion?”
“Only that it was some sort of bomb, and he suspects it was set in a deliberate effort to do away with evidence from the first fire. Sam is convinced both of them were arson.”
“He have any idea who might have been responsible?”
Patrick shook his head. “Even if he did, Sam’s too professional to say anything unless he’s got good hard evidence.”
“Which is gone now, thanks to the second fire.”
The oven timer went off, and Shannon used potholders to take the casserole out. She set it on the table along with thick slabs of good bakery bread, and served them each a generous portion. There was silence as they forked up mouthfuls.
“This is delicious,” Patrick said with a sigh, blotting up gravy with a slice of bread. “Mom sent me a couple of these as well, but I haven’t had time to cook them. I thought I’d save them until Dylan and Fiona come back from summer camp.”
“I appreciate the food. I’d like it even better if Mom wasn’t such a worrywart.”
“Yeah, well, sometimes she has good reason, where you’re concerned. She’s not the only one worrying at the moment. The fact that both my sister and brother are firefighters doesn’t make me sleep too well at night when some maniac is out there setting fires and planting bombs. Promise you’ll be supercareful until this arsonist is caught, kid.”
Shannon felt like screaming. Now she had Patrick on her case as well as her mother? It took effort, but she kept her voice level. “You of all people should know both Sean and I are well-trained. We don’t take unnecessary chances.”
“Oh, yeah?” Patrick gestured at the dogs, who were lying on the small back porch. “Nobody needs to tell me you took quite a big chance rescuing that dog the other day. Mom told me some guy had to rescue both of you. And you wouldn’t have needed rescuing if you weren’t in trouble, right?”
“I’d have found a way out myself. He just made it easy.” But even as she said it, Shannon wondered if it was true. She’d gone over the entire scene in her head numerous times, and she had to admit that she’d been in serious trouble in that warehouse. She wasn’t at all sure she’d have found a way out. “Anyhow, I learned early on not to get fixated on what could happen in any given situation. You do your best, and if something goes wrong, all a person can do is learn from it, and let it go.”
“If you happen to live through it.” Patrick had set his fork down. He sipped his wine and gave Shannon a long, thoughtful look. He had blue eyes, like all the O’Shea kids, but his were a lighter, less intense blue than Shannon’s or Sean’s. At this moment, though, they were piercing. “Who was this guy who helped you find a way out? I’d like to meet him, thank him for helping my baby sister out of a jam.”
“Yeah, so would I.” Shannon filled in the puzzling details of the man in the silver suit. “Trouble is, nobody but me seems to have laid eyes on him, and he was pretty obvious, a good six and a half feet tall and really—”
She stopped for a moment as something hit her. The man in the silver was about the exact same size and shape as John Forester. He’d been the man in the silver. Which would account for the feeling she had that she knew him from somewhere.
But if it had been John in the warehouse, he sure wasn’t owning up to it. Why not? And why would he have been there in the first place? Anxiety suddenly made her put her fork down. Could the man in the silver also have been the person who set the fire in the first place? And if John Forester was that person—
“Shannon? What were you about to say? Really what?” Patrick sipped his wine and studied her.
“Really—um, really strong. Big guy, huge. Sean’s size. Carried the dog and dragged me along as if I was a hundred pound weakling.”
“Did he say anything?”
Shannon shook her head. “Not a word.” She couldn’t make accusations based on guesses. “You do know Mom’s convinced an angel came from heaven to save me? If she’s right, I guess angels aren’t much for small talk.”
Patrick smiled. “If he’s your guardian angel, kid, he’s got his work cut out for him. But don’t forget the dog. It was probably Salvage he was sent to save in the first place. You’re way too wicked to warrant an angel intervention, brat.”
The conversation veered then to their family, to Sean and Linda and the baby. When they’d exhausted that subject, Shannon remarked, “I think Uncle Donald has the hots for my boarder. He’s taken her out to dinner tonight, and he’s been helping her all day to wreck my house.”
Patrick laughed. “I think you could be right. When she was staying at Mom’s, Uncle Donald was there so often I heard Dad say he ought to just move in. Except Dad didn’t sound very enthusiastic about the idea.”
“I’ll bet. Those two argue way too much to live in the same house. I wonder why Mom never said anything to me about Donald and Willow?” Shannon missed the long, gossipy talks she used to have with her mother. Since she’d joined the fire department, their conversations invariably ended up with Mary giving her a lecture of some sort about her job.
“You know Uncle Donald’s reputation with the blue-haired ladies. He’s cut a wide swath through every retirement home in Courage Bay. Mom’s probably afraid he’ll do his disappearing act when things get serious, and leave Willow with a broken heart.”
“Mom could be right,” Shannon observed. “Uncle Donald’s dangerous where the ladies are concerned. He’s so damn charming.”
“And elusive. He’s been a widower for a long time. I don’t think he has any intentions of marrying again.”
“Well, we shouldn’t underestimate Willow, either. Turns out she’s no shrinking violet. Give her a sledgehammer and look out. I think she’s a couple years older than Uncle Donald, so maybe she’ll have a steadying influence on the old reprobate.”
“I just hope they practice safe sex,” Patrick said.
They laughed and Patrick cleaned off the table and they washed the dishes together. Shannon brought out maple ripple ice cream and poured chocolate syrup on it. They had it with coffee in the living room. Cleo lay on her back in the middle of the rug, waving her paws and whimpering like a puppy, while Pepsi settled down in an armchair where he knew he wasn’t allowed.
Shannon gave him a look, and he gave her one right back, so she caved and left him alone. At least he wasn’t urinating on Patrick’s shoes.
“I’m taking Salvage to the firehouse when Lisa releases him, I think the crew will adopt him as a mascot.”
“Too bad somebody wouldn’t adopt Pepsi. That animal’s gonna be a big drawback if you ever find a guy you decide to keep, kid. He’s a rotten little sucker.”
They both studied the wiry dog. He bared his teeth and growled at them, and Patrick laughed. “Although if a guy could put up with Pepsi, he’s probably got what it takes. Maybe we should invest in a single-story house big enough for the dogs, my kids and you and me. And our walkers. It doesn’t look as if we’re ever gonna make much headway with the mating game.” He sighed.
Shannon felt her heart ache for her brother. Three years ago his wife, Jane, had died suddenly, leaving him with his two beautiful kids, Dylan, now nine, and Fiona, who was five. Since then Patrick had barely looked at another woman, though Shannon knew he must be lonely.
“Don’t abandon hope quite yet, big brother. Sean found Linda, which proves it’s possible for the O’Shea offspring to form lasting attachments. I’m sure that’s a big relief to Mom.”
“Well, I got a lecture from her last week about it being high time I remarried. She accused me of being way too fussy. She’s been pushing that girl from the bank my way. Nice lady, but deadly boring.”
“At least Mom doesn’t set me up. I’m grateful for that. In fact, she’s been all for me breaking up a couple of times. Remember when I was dating that Rudy Berzutto in high school, and Mom insisted he wasn’t right for me, and she couldn’t see why I was going out with him? I told her he was a whole lot of fun, and she said that fun didn’t count.”
“Berzutto. Didn’t he end up doing time for stealing cars?”
“Yeah, but that was later on. When I knew him he was only stealing horses. We got in trouble for swiping that nag from the Killarneys’ ranch, remember? All we were gonna do was take her for a midnight run. I think I’d been reading about Lady Godiva at that point. Mom came down to the cop shop to get me, and Dad was mortified.”
Mary had given her a stern lecture, but Shannon had had the feeling her mother wasn’t unduly upset that day. They were still good friends at that time. Shannon felt lonely, remembering. She missed that camaraderie now.
“Willow knew Mom before either of them was married. She told me that Mom wasn’t that keen on getting hitched. According to Willow, she wanted a career. You’d think she’d be a little more supportive about me having one.”
“She’s proud of you, Shannon. She’s just scared for you, that you’ll get hurt. She’s on Sean’s case as much as yours.”
“How does it feel to be the golden child, Mr. Mayor? You’ve got the only job our mother thoroughly approves of.”
“Yeah, and after council meetings like that one tonight, I start dreaming of being a news correspondent in the Middle East. And there’s another meeting tomorrow morning early, so I’d better be heading home. Good luck with your renovations.”
“I’m going to need more than luck. I’m liable to need a construction crew and a plumber before this is over.”
Patrick left, and Shannon took the dogs around the block. She couldn’t get the thought of John Forester out of her head. By the time she went to bed, she’d figured out a sure way to tell if he and the man in the silver were one and the same.
She’d be taking Salvage to the firehouse, and dogs had a sense of smell that was totally reliable. If Salvage showed signs of knowing John, she’d have no doubt he’d been in the warehouse.
She fell asleep that night thinking of the big firefighter and fervently hoping every one of her suspicions about him was wrong.
SHE WAS STILL HOPING THAT five days later when she drove to work for the first shift in her afternoon rotation. She was about to test John Forester, because Salvage was on the seat beside her. Lisa had called and said he was ready to be released. He was already running around as if the loss of his leg was only a distant memory.
Shannon parked, snapped a leash on the dog and led him into the firehouse.
The crew was in the kitchen, being briefed by the previous shift. The first person Shannon saw was John, lounging against the counter. She felt Salvage lunge forward, so she bent and unsnapped the leash from the dog’s neck. Without a moment’s hesitation, ignoring all the other men, the Lab went limping over to John, his tail whipping from side to side in a frenzy of excitement. He whined and sat back, balancing precariously on his bottom and putting his paws up on the fireman’s chest.
“Hey, fella. Hi, there.” John crouched down and rubbed the Lab’s ears and throat. “Aren’t you a fine dog?” He stroked Salvage and tried to ease his paws to the floor, but the canine wouldn’t stay down. He tried again to jump up, and even though the rest of the crew grouped around him, patting and talking to him, the dog made it plain that John was the one he wanted to be near.
Shannon was watching closely, and John looked over at her. He smiled and shrugged as if he had no idea why the dog was singling him out, but she knew that that, too, was a lie.
Her heart sank and a mix of responses ran through her: conviction that she’d been right about John being the man in the silver at the warehouse; a feeling of betrayal because he hadn’t admitted it—wasn’t admitting it even now; and a sense of confusion and apprehension as to why he was being dishonest. Most powerful of all was an overwhelming sense of disappointment—in him, but also in herself.
It came down to the simple fact that she couldn’t trust her heart. She’d been powerfully drawn to John, attracted to him both sexually and intellectually, and it was obvious he was absolutely wrong for her. He had some hidden agenda going on.
Well, she was determined to find out what the hell it was.
She had no intentions of confronting him in front of the other crew members, however. When the briefing was done, one of the guys took Salvage on a walk around the firehouse, and she went into the workout room for her usual half hour of exercise.
She was sitting on the bench doing biceps curls when John came in.
“Mind if I join you?” He put weights on the bench press machine and lay down on his back, raising and lowering the heavy bar over his chest as if it weighed nothing at all. Shannon could see that he was benching three hundred sixty-five pounds. Her estimation of his strength had been right on. If only her estimation of his character had been as accurate.
She felt ready to explode, and the words poured out. “You were the one who brought Salvage and me out of the warehouse. I know, because the dog recognized you, John. You were the man in the silver. Why didn’t you say something when we first met? Why did you lie to me about being there?”
He set the bar in place and sat up, facing her.
“You’re mistaken, Shannon.” He met her eyes directly, and she couldn’t detect a single indication of guile there. She felt a twinge of doubt, but she shoved it aside.
“For some reason,” he explained, “dogs take to me. Dogs, older ladies and kids. I’m like the Pied Piper. Salvage just sensed that I like animals.”
“That’s a load of crap,” she snapped. “I know dogs, and Salvage knew you. If you were in that warehouse, why don’t you want to admit it? Who are you, really, John Forester?”
Are you the arsonist? That horrible thought had been plaguing her from the instant she knew that Salvage recognized him, although she couldn’t quite bring herself to ask him. There were so many puzzling things about the scenario. If he’d set the fire, why was he hanging around afterward? And would an arsonist risk his life to save a woman and a dog? It didn’t make any sense.
“Shannon, I wasn’t at that warehouse fire.” He leaned toward her, looking her straight in the eye, his gaze as sincere as could be. “I didn’t even arrive in Courage Bay until after the second fire. I can prove that to you. I have my airline ticket. And if you doubt my identity, I’ll show you my birth certificate, my charge cards, a picture of my father—whatever it takes to convince you.”
She held his gaze, challenging him. “Okay, show me.”
He blew out an exasperated sigh. “Not here. I don’t have my father’s picture with me, or the airline tickets. Come out to dinner with me on our break, day after tomorrow. We can get to know one another better, and I promise I’ll bring everything.”
She held his gaze as she thought it over. If he was lying, he was doing a pretty elaborate job of covering up, and she wanted to know why. If he was telling the truth, then she certainly should give him a chance to prove it.
“Okay. Day after tomorrow, at eight.”
“Good enough. Give me your address. I’ll pick you up.”
“Where will we go?”
“Leave that to me. I’ll find a good spot.”
Like a deserted road where you can murder me and dispose of the body?
That was laughable. If he’d wanted to be rid of her, he could have left her in that burning warehouse.
“Where do you live?”
She thought of the ramp leading up to her back door. She opened her mouth to suggest that she meet him instead of having him come to the house, then decided the hell with it. She had nothing to hide. If he wanted a date, a date it would be.
“Just come around to the back door.” She scribbled her address on a scrap of paper and handed it to him, wondering if she was making the biggest mistake of her life.