Читать книгу Slow Burn - Jamie Denton - Страница 11

FROM THE passenger seat of Cale’s red four-wheel-drive pickup, Maggie watched the passing scenery along Ocean Boulevard. Regardless of how thin a chance, she’d still hoped something—a building, a tree, maybe even a street sign or billboard—would pull her memory out of hiding.

“Nothing is familiar,” she told Cale as he came to a stop behind a line of cars waiting for the traffic light to turn green.

He glanced her way, then took her by surprise when he reached across the bench seat to slip his hand over hers, as if touching her was something he did all the time. Her body said otherwise. When he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, delightful little shockwaves traveled up her arm and shot straight to the tips of her breasts with electrifying accuracy.

“Did you expect otherwise?” he asked, his voice one of concern, not lust.

Too bad.

“Hoped is more like it.” She removed her hand from beneath his to slip a nonexistent stray lock of hair behind her ear. She didn’t think she was unaccustomed to being touched, which left only one other option. Her desire for physical distance, however minute, stemmed from something much more basic…like an inexplicable sexual attraction to a total stranger. Her life, such as it was, was complicated enough and she should definitely not compound her problems by allowing her hormones to run amuck. Just because her guide in an unfamiliar world was sexier than any man had a right to be, and was able to make her breath still with one slanted look or a gentle touch, did not put him on her agenda.

Cale turned his attention back to the road and moved forward with the rest of the traffic. “You’re not supposed to force your memories. When your memory does return, it’ll be in its own time.”

She let out a sigh and looked out the window again. “I know.” She might not like it, but Cale was right. He only repeated what the doctors had been telling her for the last few days. Still, it unnerved her that he appeared to possess an uncanny ability to read her mind. An interesting concept, she mused, since her mind was pretty much a blank page.

At least she was out of the hospital and not in a long-term care facility. No matter how diplomatic Mrs. Sutter had been in her explanation, the place she’d described had just screamed loony bin. Maggie wasn’t crazy or even mentally incompetent, she just didn’t know her identity.

“I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done,” she blurted, anxious for a break from her own morose thoughts. “I’m not even sure how to begin to repay you.”

Just as she realized exactly what she’d implied, he glanced her way again. Surely she didn’t imagine the way his gaze swept over her. Only her own twisted imagination could spark the dozen or so lurid images running through her mind with the speed of light. Her throat should never have felt drier than dust, either, and her pulse rate couldn’t have increased. But she’d felt every ounce of those tell-tale physiological changes in her body, just because she’d imagined Cale looking at her with blatant male appreciation in his gaze. At least that was her argument, until she witnessed the adorable grin that tugged his lips and deepened the laugh lines surrounding his eyes. At that moment, she knew it hadn’t been her imagination, just as she knew the sudden acceleration of her heartbeat was as real as it got.

“There’s no thanks necessary.” He shifted his attention back to the road. “If you can cook, that’ll be payment enough. I get kinda tired of my own cooking.”

A wry grin touched her lips. “I guess we’ll have to see, won’t we?”

She didn’t feel completely comfortable intruding on Cale’s life, but as he’d so eloquently stated, it was either him or the funny farm. By accepting his very generous offer, she’d be free to come and go as she pleased, and she hoped to find out a thing or two or three about her past. So what if she’d have to leave the proverbial trail of bread crumbs to find her way home again? At least she had freedom, and that had to count for something.

Shortly after they entered the city limits of Hermosa Beach, Cale took a left off Ocean Boulevard into a residential district, which brought them even closer to the shores of the Pacific Ocean. After several more turns, Cale slowed and pulled into a sloped driveway, parking in front of a two-car garage with a roll-up door painted a hideous shade of turquoise.

Above the garage was the house, in a much more pleasing-to-the-eye shade of dove-gray siding, however, the trim and the concrete staircase leading up to the house were the same garish color as the garage door. Flanking the driveway were two planters made of railroad ties. They were filled with shrubs in dire need of TLC before they completely lost the battle being pitifully waged against a determined army of dandelions.

“It’s a work in progress,” Cale said with a nod toward the house.

She glanced around the area. The well-kept homes only yards from the beach, whether modest in size or more elaborate and ornate, spoke of prime real estate. “Nice neighborhood.”

Cale chuckled. “Don’t be too impressed. I pull in a decent salary, but not enough to afford something like this on my own. Thanks to my aunt, the lawyers handling my folks’ probate set up a trust fund for me and my brothers.”

So he had family. She wondered what these brothers of his would say about her living with Cale, albeit temporarily. If she’d brought home a total stranger…

If she’d brought home a total stranger—what? The answer faded away into the misty remnants of her mind before she had a chance to catch it, filling her with renewed frustration.

Cale snagged the plastic bag containing her few personal items before opening the door to the truck. The soothing scent of the sea instantly slipped inside. She pulled in a deep breath and waited, hoping for another spark of some distant memory, only to be further disappointed. Somehow she knew the sea comforted her. She only wished she knew why.

With yet another gusty sigh, she opened her door and slid from the truck to follow Cale up the turquoise steps. “What did your parents do?” she asked, as he slipped the key into the lock.

He looked back at her before pushing open the door. There was no mistaking the hint of sadness in his eyes. “They were both firefighters.” Had he been a child when his parents had passed away? Could that be why he’d taken her in so easily, because he had firsthand experience of suddenly finding himself alone in the world?

Before she could ask him, he abruptly changed the subject. “I hope you like animals,” he said as he opened the door.

No fear climbed up her spine at the thought of facing an animal, so she simply shrugged and followed Cale inside. The sound of clicking toenails on a newly finished hardwood floor greeted them and they were met by a very large, furry black dog of an indeterminate breed. The dog jumped around Cale, filled with excitement.

“Maggie, meet Pearl.” To the dog he said, “You be a good girl.”

Pearl immediately sat, tongue lolling out of her mouth with an expectant look in her enormous brown eyes as she stared at Maggie.

She took a hesitant step forward, her left hand extended for Pearl to sniff. Instead of a cold nose, a warm tongue lapped at her hand. Pearl’s oddly short bushy tail polished the floor with record speed.

“Oh, she’s sweet,” Maggie said, smiling up at Cale. That look was in his eyes again, the one that held a combination of awe and desire. Her pulse revved again. Needing a moment to remind herself that feeling all warm and fuzzy inside was not the wisest course, she flipped her attention back to Pearl. The canine’s lips were pulled back as she showed off a set of lethal-looking teeth.

“I don’t think she likes me,” she said, unsure whether or not to take a giant step backward.

Cale chuckled. “Of course she does.”

Maggie pasted a smile on her face and hoped the dog took it as a sign of friendship. “Then why is she snarling at me?”

“She’s not snarling, she’s smiling.”

Maggie frowned. “Excuse me?” Dogs did not smile, that much she did know.

“Smiling.” Cale closed the door and set the bag next to a lamp on a rustic pine sofa table nestled against the wall nearest the door. “She does it all the time when she’s happy.”

Maggie eyed the dog cautiously and slowly bent down to rub her chest. Pearl’s “grin” widened and her eyes took on a glazed look of deep pleasure. “And here I thought dogs only wagged their tails to show their emotions.”

“She’s kind of unique that way.” Cale cleared his throat and headed into the kitchen. “Want something to drink?”

She stood and followed Cale. Pearl followed her. “How long have you had her?” When Maggie came to a stop, Pearl sat beside her as if waiting for a command of some sort. She wagged her tail so hard, her big body shook.

Maggie reached down to give the dog a scratch behind her long floppy ears. Pearl moaned in ecstasy seconds before she slid to the floor, her back leg scratching at nothing but air.

Cale opened the refrigerator and pulled out a pitcher of iced tea. “Since she was a pup. I was jogging on the beach one morning and suddenly there she was, running alongside me, dragging a string of barbed wire wrapped midway around her tail. After I took it off, she followed me home. No one bothered to claim her, not that I’d seriously consider allowing her to go back, given the shape the poor girl was in when she found me.”

Not only did Maggie now understand the reason for the odd length of Pearl’s bushy tail, but she’d discovered vitally important information regarding Cale. The man suffered from a hero complex. She didn’t need to be Sigmund Freud to understand why Cale had become a paramedic. The injured pup revealed a lot about him and explained his rescuing her from an unknown fate.

There had to be more to the puzzle, of that she felt certain. For reasons she didn’t understand, she couldn’t help wondering about the why behind his good-hearted soul.

“Shake it, baby!”

Maggie stared at Cale, not quite certain she’d heard him right. “Pardon me?”

He pulled a pair of tall glasses from the cabinet nearest the sink. “Cool it, Gilda,” he scolded on his way to the freezer for ice. “There’s a lady in the house.”

A wolf whistle came next. “Pretty mama. Yowza,” was followed by a high-decibel screech.

This time Maggie had no trouble discerning the species or the location of the voice. She walked past Cale, through the efficiency kitchen into a cozy breakfast nook painted a soft white that matched the wicker table and chairs covered with bright print cushions. Potted palms and hanging ferns were scattered around the room, adding to the charm. A wind chime made entirely of seashells hung directly in front of the east window, complementing the tropical decor. She instantly liked this room. It’d be the perfect spot to…to what? Frustration filled her as the whisper-thin, indecipherable impression floated out of her grasp.

“Pucker up, doll.”

Maggie turned toward the crude squawking. A large wrought-iron cage housing a predominately teal-colored parrot sat off to the side, away from the rays of streaming sunlight. “Hi there, Gilda,” she said to the bird.

Cale entered the bright nook, a sheepish grin on his face. “She has a very unusual vocabulary for a girl,” he said, wondering why on earth Maggie’s interest in his pets gave him such a feeling of intense pleasure. Maybe because most of the women he dated were either allergic, couldn’t be bothered or just plain disliked animals, period.

Maggie grinned. The way her eyes sparkled when she glanced his way sent a shot of warmth through him. A very dangerous kind of warmth. The kind that jump-started fantasies—he remembered the color of Maggie’s eyes when she was aroused and began to wonder if they’d become the color of the ocean if he kissed her pretty bow-shaped mouth.

“Where did you find her?” she asked, dragging him reluctantly out of his ocean-blue fantasy.

Gilda walked back and forth along her perch. “One of a kind. One of a kind.”

“You most certainly are,” she told the bird, her voice filled with a hint of laughter.

Gilda fluffed her brilliant feathers and squawked. The old girl knew a compliment when she heard one.

“Gilda’s a long story,” he hedged.

She gave him a sidelong look. “Sounds like an interesting one,” she prompted.

Cale let out a sigh. “I was at a bachelor party for one of the guys at the station,” he admitted sheepishly. “The owner of the place was looking for a home for Gilda, so I took her in.”

A mischievous grin tugged her lips as she took the glass of iced tea he offered. “A bachelor party, huh?”

Gilda bobbed up and down to a tune all her own. “What a pair!”

Cale took a long drink of his own tea and looked away.

Maggie glanced at Gilda. “Careful,” she scolded gently. “Uh, where exactly was this bachelor party?”

Cale rubbed the back of his neck, which had suddenly grown hot. “A place down the coast highway. You wouldn’t know it.”

“Shake it, baby.”

“Based on Gilda’s very unladylike choice of phrases, I think I have a pretty good idea.”

“Ride ’em, cowgirl,” Gilda belted, followed by a couple bars of the Lone Ranger’s theme song.

Cale cleared his throat. “She was a lot worse a few months ago.” Gilda still might be the linguistic equivalent of a dirty old man, but the swearing had begun to ebb…somewhat. Every now and then, however, she’d let loose with a string of curses so vile, she offended the neighbors.

“She sings, too,” Cale told her. “Presley, Sinatra and Buddy Holly are her favorites.” Maggie’s soft gentle laughter, combined with the sensual curve of her lips had him thinking some very nonplatonic thoughts about his newest roommate.

“Any other critters I should be aware of?” she asked before taking a sip of her tea.

Cale led her away from Gilda before the bird started swearing. When Gilda had a live audience, anything was possible.

“Only Frankie and Johnnie,” he said as he ushered Maggie back through the kitchen and into the living room. Pearl lay in the corner between the sofa and recliner on her bed, a large blue pillow stuffed with cedar wood chips.

“And they would be?”

“A pair of cats I got talked into adopting not long after I moved in here.” He set his tea on the pine table and snagged the bag holding her things, preparing to give Maggie the nickel tour and show her to her room. The doctor had insisted she get plenty of rest over the next few days, and Cale had no intention of ignoring those orders, especially if it would help her with the return of her memory.

“They’re all very lucky to have you.” An odd expression filled her eyes. A hint of sorrow, naturally, but something deeper, more empathetic, reminding him that for the moment, he was the only person in the world who cared about what happened to Maggie With-No-Last-Name.

He knew what it was like to feel alone, sort of. Sure, he’d had his brothers and his father when his mother had died in the line of duty at a time when women firefighters were extremely rare. And then his aunt had stepped in when his father had simply given up on life after Joanna Perry had died. Although Cale hadn’t been completely alone, he still had known a deep sense of longing for something familiar and comforting, something that remained elusive until eventually it faded with time. The perfume his mom used to wear when she was off duty, for instance, or the sweet, gentle sound of her voice as she read stories to her sons. Now he could barely remember the feel of his father’s firm hand upon his shoulder or the deep rumble of his laughter.

His intent only to offer consolation, he dropped the bag at his feet before taking the glass of tea from Maggie’s grasp. The moment he pulled her into his arms, she stiffened. A half second later, she let out a warm sigh and slid her arms around his waist. The heavy weight of her cast pressed into his side as he held her close. She smelled as warm and fresh as a summer day.

“You’re not alone, Maggie,” he whispered against her hair. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, and you’re free to stay until you decide it’s time for you to leave. Okay?”

He felt the slight nod of her head against his chest as he smoothed his hand down her back as if soothing a small child—except Maggie was no child. She was a full-grown woman with curves in all the right places. Curves he’d had the agonizing privilege of seeing when he’d walked in on her at the hospital. Curves he’d had the excruciating pleasure of touching as he’d helped her dress. Curves he was certain would haunt not only his dreams, but his waking hours, as well.

She pulled back to look up at him. Her eyes filled with moisture. “Cale,” she whispered.

“Shh,” he murmured, slipping his hand through her long cinnamon hair to cup the back of her neck in his palm. Comfort, that’s all he was offering. It was all he had to offer.

The lie stuck in his suddenly dry throat as he slowly lowered his head, bringing their lips within inches of touching. Her dark sooty lashes fluttered closed as she lifted her lips to his. Kissing Maggie might not be his smartest move, but he’d started down this road and there was no way he could turn back now, not when she was such a willing participant.

His lips brushed hers just as the beeper clipped to his belt vibrated. For the space of a second he considered ignoring it, but he was on call, as were most of the guys at Trinity Station during off time. There was no such thing as being truly off duty in his line of work. Taking into account the time of day, he suspected the emergency was a multi-vehicle accident rather than a two-or three-alarm blaze.

“I’m sorry,” he said as he released Maggie and reached for his beeper. The words “Six MVA on I-10,” lit up the LCD screen, confirming his suspicions. It’d take him a minimum of fifteen, maybe twenty minutes, to be on the scene, but with six vehicles involved, the extra hands would be welcome regardless of when they arrived.

Reluctantly, he let her go. A sense of male satisfaction filled him at her obvious disappointment.

“I have to leave,” he said, already feeling the rush of adrenaline creeping through his body as he anticipated the task ahead of him. “The guest room is downstairs. The lower level is pretty much under construction, but you’ll be able to find it since it’s the only room finished. Unfortunately, the working bathroom is upstairs at the moment. It’s just down the hall.”

He stepped around her and headed for the door.

“Is there anything I should do while you’re gone?” she asked, stopping him as his hand settled on the doorknob. “Feed your pets, maybe?”

“Pearl likes to run along the beach about an hour after she eats.” He checked his watch, knowing he had to get going. “Give her a couple scoops of dry food if I’m not back by seven. Her food’s in the tall cabinet next to the fridge. I can take her for a walk when I get home.”

He didn’t bother to say goodbye, just walked out the door without a backward glance. As he trotted down the steps and headed for his pickup, he was struck by the frightening thought that for the first time since following in his parents’ professional footsteps, his focus was on something other than just doing his job; it was on the woman who’d be waiting for him at the end of the day.