Bold and Brave-Hearted Read online

  She swallowed her pride. “I’ll work for less. I write good news copy, Alex. You know that.” Dammit, in addition to local issues, she knew more about international news and the big financial markets than anyone else in Paseo. Her stories always had a bite and were based on solid facts she’d researched herself. Finding a local hook was her forte.

  He actually hung his head like a contrite little boy. “I’m sorry, Kim. Right now there simply isn’t a spot for you on the team. Perhaps later…”

  Team! That was a load of crock. Alex Woodward ran the organization like a tyrant.

  Under other circumstances, Kim might think she was well rid of him and KPRX-TV. There’d be other opportunities to pursue.

  But not now. She was fast running out of options. Soon, she’d be running out of money, too.

  Chapter Eleven

  After the disastrous interview with Alex Woodward, Kim drove around town for a while. Until that blasted earthquake she’d been able to solve her own problems. Now she felt helpless. For the first time in her adult life she wanted to lean on someone.

  Inevitably, her route took her back to Jay’s house.

  He met her on the front porch. Though he was still wearing his eye patches, and would be for another week or so, he no longer needed regular eye drops. Still she hadn’t brought herself to move out, shuttling instead between his house and hers for clean clothes.

  He hooked his arm through hers before she even got in the door. “We’re late.”

  “Late? What’s wrong? Where are we going?”

  He hustled her down the porch steps. “Emma Jean called. It’s a command performance. You want me to drive, or should we walk?”

  Kim had come to Jay’s house to cry on his shoulder and whine about her uncertain future. Now her head was spinning. Jay had a way of keeping her off balance and, in the process, raising her spirits.

  She shook her head in bewilderment. “We’ll walk while you tell me what’s going on.”

  “It’s Chief Gray’s sixtieth birthday and our beloved Councilwoman Anderson baked him a huge sheet cake.” With Jay striding along the sidewalk so confidently, Kim was hard-pressed to keep up in her high heels. “Emma Jean wants everybody there so we can distract Mrs. Anderson long enough for the bakery to get a substitute cake to the station.”

  “What kind of distraction does Emma Jean have in mind? Starting a series of brush fires?”

  As if his vision were twenty-twenty, he gave her a sharp glance through his reflective sunglasses. “I don’t think so. She’s probably going to read palms, or something. Nobody will be able to resist hearing her predictions—and guessing how far off she is.”

  “Sounds reasonable.” Although Kim could only hope there wouldn’t be a rash of emergencies in town during the next hour or so—or however long it took to bake and decorate a cake then get it delivered.

  “So how did your talk go with your boss?” Jay asked.

  “Ex-boss.”

  “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “He wasn’t even interested in hiring me to scrub toilets. Not that I lowered myself far enough to apply for the job, but only because I didn’t think of the idea at the time.”

  “I keep telling you, with your sexy voice you’ll find something.”

  “Like what? Replacing Emma Jean as dispatcher when the councilwoman finds out her birthday party for the chief has been sabotaged?”

  “Hey, if Mrs. Anderson knew Emma Jean was saving her bacon when it comes to the chief, she’d probably have the city council give her a commendation.”

  Kim supposed that was a possibility, though she’d be reluctant to bet on the outcome. Despite her eccentricities, Mrs. Anderson was a strong-minded woman and was on the boards of directors of half the nonprofit organizations in town, from the battered women’s shelter to the local university. Not many people in Paseo del Real would be willing to cross her.

  A little breathless when they reached the fire station, Kim led Jay in through the open bay doors. All the fire trucks were parked inside without a firefighter in sight. Apparently Emma Jean had rejected the notion of brush fires popping up all over town.

  “Where is everyone?” Kim asked.

  “Let’s check dispatch first. If they’re not there, they’ll be upstairs in the dining hall.”

  They discovered the C-shift crew plus department secretaries crowded elbow-to-elbow in the dispatcher’s office paying homage to Emma Jean’s gypsy blood, violin and concertina music piped in over the loudspeakers.

  A burst of laughter came from the room when they arrived. Emma Jean was busily dealing a deck of cards on top of her console with the man Kim remembered as Mike Gables watching avidly.

  “Come on, Gables, admit it!” one of his buddies shouted. “You bribe some woman to bid your price up at the bachelor auction every year just so you’ll keep your studly reputation intact.”

  “Not a chance, Strong,” Mike countered, grinning over his shoulder. “Besides you’re the one who pays your sister to open the bidding so damn high when you start strutting your stuff.”

  “Me?” Logan Strong, tall and lanky and quite handsome in his blue uniform, laughed. “Couldn’t be me. I don’t even have a sister.”

  “The cards don’t lie,” Emma Jean insisted, defending her prediction. “The queen of hearts is right there. She tells me Mike will claim the highest price at the next bachelor auction…and it will be the last time he is eligible to participate.”

  Everyone hooted and hollered, and Mrs. Anderson, who was squeezed in behind the dispatcher’s chair, beamed a smile at Chief Gray. “Perhaps someone will pay a higher price for a more mature man—someone like Harlan.”

  The chief’s face turned bright red. “Now Evie, I’m too old for a bachelor auction. That’s for the young guys.”

  Evie clearly didn’t agree with Harlan’s assessment. “Nonsense. Besides, we older women have more disposable income to spend on what interests us. We can always outbid the younger girls if we’re taken with a man—all for a good cause, of course.”

  At that moment, it looked as though the chief would have welcomed a five-alarm fire.

  Tactfully, Evie Anderson suggested they all go upstairs to enjoy the birthday cake.

  “Wait a minute,” one of the secretaries piped up. “First you have to tell Tommy’s fortune, Emma Jean.”

  The shy youngster was shoved forward, his face even brighter than the chief’s. “Come on, guys. I don’t wanna have my fortune told.”

  Emma Jean snatched the boy’s hand, making a big production of reading his palm. “Ah, yes, I see great wealth and a long life. And love!”

  “Hey, maybe we ought to get the girls to bid on Tommy,” somebody suggested.

  Shooting a plaintive look at his friends, he snatched his hand back from the dispatcher and stuffed it in the pocket of his raggedy jeans.

  Kim’s heart went out to the youngster, and she was ready to add her vote to ending the poor boy’s ordeal.

  The chief, apparently agreeing with Kim, said, “Gentlemen, I think we’ve had enough—”

  “No, not yet!” someone shouted in another desperate effort to delay the unveiling of the sham birthday cake, which apparently hadn’t arrived yet. “Jay’s here. How ’bout telling us his future?”

  Eager hands grabbed at Jay, pulling him farther into the room. Through a break in the crowd, Emma Jean caught Kim’s attention and winked at her.

  Unwilling to be the victim of the dispatcher’s false predictions, an anxious feeling curled through Kim’s midsection.

  “I don’t have to check Jay’s palm to predict his future,” Emma Jean said to the crowd, her dark eyes flashing with amusement. “I’d bet my crystal ball he’s not going to be eligible for any bachelor auction this year. Marriage is definitely in the air.” With laughter and good humor, everyone in the room turned toward Kim.

  She ducked her head, looking away. Emma Jean shouldn’t have said that. Once Jay got his sight back he’d have no interest at all in
marrying her, no matter what Emma Jean’s crystal ball or Jay’s palm might say. And how awful it would be if they did marry while Jay was blind. Everyone would pity him, thinking she’d tricked him into marriage without him realizing how terribly scarred she was.

  Even if her heart did overrule her good reason, what would they do when the sensual spark wore off? What would they talk about? However enticing the idea might be, no married couple could spend all of their time in bed.

  No, marriage wasn’t in the cards for Kim—probably never—and certainly not with Jay. She’d never take advantage of him that way. She’d leave first.

  Dear heaven, the thought of walking away from Jay was as painful as having the lighting fixture fall on her again. But that’s exactly what she’d have to do—walk away.

  And soon, she realized with a start.

  The deeper, the more intimate their relationship became, the harder it would be on both of them when the time came. Kim couldn’t delay that moment much longer. Only until his bandages were removed, she told herself.

  One way or another, by then she’d have to go.

  Behind her there was a disturbance and a firefighter leaned into the room, whispering in Kim’s ear, “Give Emma Jean the all-clear signal, would you? The bakery cake is in the station.”

  Within moments of Kim catching Emma Jean’s eye again, the crowd broke up. Kim was swept along upstairs with the others, where everyone joined in a rousing chorus of “Happy Birthday” to the chief. Once the cake was cut, Harlan looked relieved, excusing himself as rapidly as politeness allowed.

  Kim found herself standing next to Evie Anderson while Jay was across the room laughing with his buddies. Looking at him, she wished she could go home with him right now, curl up in his arms and forget that what they’d had together these past few days couldn’t last forever.

  “Looks like my birthday surprise was a success as far as the firefighters are concerned,” the council-woman said, noting the way the party guests had made short work of the cake. “There have been times when I thought these young men didn’t appreciate my home cooking.”

  Disguising a smile, Kim forked another bite of the store-bought cake into her mouth. “Oh, I’m sure they do.” The bakery cake was quite good. Clearly it hadn’t had time between the oven and the fire station to dry out, and the baker had followed the recipe, not substituting salt for sugar.

  Sighing, Evie looked off into the distance. “I seem to have lost my ability to attract a man in my old age. Harlan’s so sweet but so much of the time he seems, well, to want to avoid me.”

  “He hasn’t been widowed very long. Maybe he’s worried that if he expressed an interest in another woman, he’d feel disloyal to his wife.”

  “It’s been three years. And at our age—” Evie set her thin lips in a determined line. “There’s still some life in these old bones and I don’t intend to squander a minute of the remaining time I have.”

  Taking a deep breath, Kim decided the council-woman had to be told the truth, or at least part of the truth. “Well, then, perhaps it’s your perfume that’s keeping the chief at a distance, Mrs. Anderson.”

  She looked at Kim, startled. “My perfume?”

  “It’s a little strong.” Downright potent, as though Evie had a lilac bush strapped to her back. Evidently her head injury had affected both her taste buds and her ability to smell.

  A frown pinched her brows together. “Ever since my concussion, it’s so hard to tell. I try not to overdo it.”

  “In this case, I think it would be better to err on the safe side and not use perfume at all.”

  Distraught, Evie nodded. “Thank you, my dear. Honesty has always been something I admired in you, even when you were doing controversial stories about our community. You were, if nothing else, absolutely fair to both sides.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Will you be going back to the news show soon? I believe KPRX has missed your integrity on their newscasts recently.”

  “Not enough that they plan to hire me back. Because of my scars, I’ll never be on camera again.” The admission hurt more than Kim had realized it might. Briefly, she told the councilwoman of her meeting with Woodward that morning, concluding with, “…and so I’m unemployed and hunting for a job anywhere I can find one.”

  “Gracious, it was dreadful enough that you were injured, but to lose your job, too.” Evie patted Kim’s hand affectionately. “Well, you have spirit, my dear. I’m sure you’ll find something, though if you leave Paseo it will be our loss.”

  “You’re kind to say that, Mrs. Anderson.”

  “Kind? Bah! Haven’t you heard I’m the mean ol’ witch on the council who won’t let a bunch of liberals spend the city into the poorhouse?”

  “I have heard something like that, yes,” she admitted, laughing. Mrs. Anderson had rounded up community opposition to more than one program Kim had supported, and in the process had swayed her fellow council members to vote with her. But she’d always done her homework and her votes weren’t outlandish. At least not usually.

  Evie smiled conspiratorially. “We’re just going to have to see what we can do to keep a fine young woman like you in our community. Our city needs spirit like yours. Of course, if Emma Jean is right in her predictions—” she glanced across the room towards Jay, “—you’ll be highly motivated to stay.”

  Kim struggled to speak past the lump in her throat. No one could understand what an impossible dream that was. All these years Kim had concentrated her efforts on her career, thinking marriage and family would come later. Love could wait.

  Now it was too late.

  Although Jay claimed her scars didn’t matter—and the people in this room didn’t appear to find her repulsive—the rest of the world wouldn’t be that kind. She’d seen enough faces turn away from her to know the truth. She was desperately ugly.

  In time, Jay would know that too. The reality of living day to day with a disfigured woman would wear on him. Make him question his choice. Undermine whatever feelings he had for her.

  She couldn’t stand that. She’d rather have her heart ripped out and thrown in the trash than see regret or pity in his eyes.

  JAY HAD lost track of where Kim was. He was standing with Mike Gables, their backs to the kitchen counter, and Mike had been waxing on about C shift’s rescue of a couple stuck in a car that was dangling half off a freeway overpass a hundred feet in the air.

  Though firefighting “war” stories were entertaining, at the moment Jay wasn’t all that interested.

  He tilted his head, listening for Kim’s voice, but the crowd was so noisy he could barely hear himself think. Inhaling slightly, he tried to catch the faint scent of her perfume. All he got was a snoot full of lilacs, as if some heavy-handed probationer had gotten carried away with spraying designer room freshener around the place. It really stank.

  “Don’t sweat it, lover boy,” Mike Gables said. “Your girlfriend is still here.”

  Jay snapped his head back toward Mike. “I wasn’t worried about—”

  “Yeah, right. You were craning your neck around trying to figure out if she’d left yet. I thought for a minute you were going to snatch off your eye patches and take a look for yourself.”

  Jay shrugged. “Maybe.” He sure as hell was getting sick of being in the dark.

  “You going to get your patches off pretty soon? With you off the job, I’m pulling too many double shifts and it’s playing hell with my social life.”

  Jay laughed, knowing darn well Mike wouldn’t let anything, including work, interfere with his active bachelor’s life for long. Emma Jean had been one-hundred-eighty degrees off base suggesting Mike would be getting married anytime in the next year—probably not within the next decade. She’d been equally wrong about Jay’s chances for marriage.

  “I thought you’d already broken every heart in Paseo,” Jay said, trying not to think about Kim and how she was the only woman he’d even consider marrying. And she had always been out of his l
eague. “There can’t be many females around who you haven’t loved and left just when they had visions of standing at the altar with you.”

  “I leave ’em real happy, ol’ buddy, and never anywhere near the church door. It’s a matter of principle with me that I never lead a woman on. A few good times, a bouquet of flowers, a bottle of wine and some sweet words, but no promises.”

  “I’m sure they’re all grateful for that.”

  “So when will you know if your eyes have healed okay?”

  “I’ll know the verdict in a week.” Seven days until he learned whether or not he’d be dependent on others for the rest of his life. That jarring thought turned the bakery cake to acid in his stomach.

  Jay started as a cold, damp nose slid into his open palm.

  “Hey, Buttons. How have you been?” He scratched the top of the dog’s head and gave him a couple of solid pats on his side. “Been to any good fires lately?”

  “No, but he sure does make a hit with the school kids who come here for field trips,” Mike said. “He’d make some family a great pet.”

  “Probably better than a guide dog.” Then again, maybe Buttons liked that job, too. “See you later, Gables.”

  Taking Buttons by the collar, Jay ordered, “Buttons, find Kim.”

  To his delight, the dog took off right across the crowded room, Jay at his side hanging on tight. “Coming through, folks. Coming through.”

  Everyone chuckled but it was Kim’s come-hither laughter floating across the room that drew Jay to his destination.

  “I DON’T THINK I’m going to be very good company,” Kim said as they walked up the block to Jay’s house. A niggling sense of depression had settled over her now that the distraction of the chief’s party had passed. “Maybe I ought to go on home. I’ll come by tomorrow—”

  “Hey, we’ll have none of that. If you’re feeling down about Woodward and KPRX, I’ve got great shoulders to cry on—as well as other interesting body parts.”