Bold and Brave-Hearted Read online

  All of which looked particularly appealing in a tight-fitting polo shirt and jeans, she mused.

  “There’s nothing much you can do,” she said. “I need to update my resumé and figure out what to do next.”

  “So I’ll come with you. I’ll check out your etchings while you do whatever it is you have to do.”

  Halting on the sidewalk beside her car, she slanted him a look. “Sculptures. I work in clay but they’re nothing special. Strictly amateur.”

  He slid his hand to the back of her neck, capturing her when she would have turned away. “It’s not good to be alone when you’re feeling down, Kim. I know. Let me come with you. I’ll stay out of your way, if that’s what you want. But I don’t want you to be all by yourself. Not today.”

  She lowered her head and he pulled her into his arms where she could rest her head on his shoulder. She forced herself to swallow the sob that threatened. “I’ve always known just where I was going and now…I’m lost, Jay. I don’t know what comes next.” Never had she been so vulnerable, so at a loss.

  “Then why don’t we stick together? Maybe we’re going in the same direction.”

  Kim didn’t dare allow herself to believe that was possible. But in spite of what she’d said, she didn’t want to be alone, either. Not just yet.

  “Okay, you can come up to see my etchings. But if you start raving that I’m the most talented artist you’ve ever known, I’ll know you’re not only blind but a liar.”

  “Considering I’ve never known any other artists, I figure you’re a shoo-in for the top spot. But if you want to lie and say you’re not quite up to Picasso’s standards, it’s all right by me.”

  Laughing, she shook her head. “Guess again. Picasso was a painter, not a sculptor.” And Jay was a man with the uncanny ability to lift her spirits simply by being himself.

  KIM’S HOUSE was big.

  Jay could sense the space all around him as she walked him through the carpeted rooms and out onto the deck where her heels clicked on the wood flooring.

  The scent of oak trees washed clean by the recent rains hovered in the air along with a faint trace of sea salt drifting in from the distant ocean. And her own floral perfume. Jay inhaled deeply, mentally separating the scents until hers was the only one that mattered.

  “This is some kind of place,” he said, envying her. He’d always lived in town, in the same little house a block away from the busy traffic on Paseo Boulevard. “It must be wonderful living out in the country.”

  “I love it and I’d hate to have to sell—”

  “Hey, don’t give up so easily. You’ve only been unemployed a week.”

  “Tell that to my bank account,” she said grimly. “Buying this place was a stretch for me, maybe too big a stretch in retrospect.”

  “You’ll work something out.”

  “I hope so.” Her sigh was long and troubled. “I’ll show you my studio, if you want. Then I’m going to go change into something more comfortable.”

  “Hmm, that sounds like even more fun.” He waggled his eyebrows. “You need any help?”

  “Jay, you’re impossible! Don’t you ever think of anything beside sex?”

  “Nope. Not when you’re around.”

  She left him alone in the studio, the smell of dust and clay all around him. He wouldn’t be able to tell good art from a piece of junk, even with a fully functioning pair of eyes. But as he ran his fingers over a sculpted figure he sensed her touch. The way she’d molded the clay with her hands. Held it. Caressed warmth from a lifeless form.

  A fawn nuzzled beneath its mother, suckling while it stood straddle-legged. The instinct to protect her offspring was apparent in the doe’s alert stance—head up, sniffing the air for danger.

  Suddenly, Jay pictured Kim protecting his child, holding the baby in her arms, his child suckling at her breast. The image, the yearning, struck him so powerfully it nearly brought him to his knees.

  What if he’d already gotten her pregnant? Condoms weren’t one-hundred-percent safe. Would she even want to have his baby? How could he convince her—

  “Don’t look so grim,” she said from somewhere nearby, laughter in her voice. “I told you I was strictly an amateur.”

  Only then did he realize how tightly he’d been clasping the sculpture of the doe and her fawn. Relaxing his grip, he set it back in its place, but the image of Kim holding his baby remained achingly vivid in his mind’s eye.

  “I think I’ve found the answer for all your problems,” he said.

  “Is that so? I can hardly wait.”

  “It’s pretty simple, really.” If things were different, marriage to him would be a simple solution. Except he was blind and wouldn’t be able to support her or the baby that had sprung to his mind. “You can start showing your etchings around town, someone will discover your artistic talents, you’ll be an overnight success and your pieces will sell for millions.”

  Chuckling, she came up beside him, slipping her arms around his waist. “I had no idea what a vivid imagination you had.”

  He hugged her close. “Trust me, sweetheart. You haven’t even begun to fathom what my imagination can come up with.”

  URGENCY FEULED Kim’s lovemaking that night. The hunger to feel she was whole in his arms, not scarred. Not lacking in any way. The prayer that in a perfect world their differences would evaporate, become meaningless.

  She’d never made love in her own home before. In a way she had trouble articulating, bringing Jay here meant he’d crossed an invisible barrier. He was the first who had breached the walls of her solitary castle.

  Wanting to recall every tactile sensation of loving Jay, her hands caressed him, learning the sharp details of his face, testing the strength of his shoulders, measuring the corded length of his forearms. Perhaps later she would sculpt him from memory, lovingly turning a mound of clay into the image of this man. But it would never be enough—only a pale imitation of the original.

  When the discordant ring of the phone woke her the next morning, she relinquished the comfort of Jay’s warmth reluctantly. She rolled over, the chill air raising goose bumps on her bare flesh, and picked up the instrument.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Jay, wake up!” So excited she could barely breathe, she shook his arm.

  Rolling over, he snared her by the hand and dragged her back under the covers. “I am awake. Who could sleep with all that racket going on?”

  “Then you heard?” She tried to struggle free, but he didn’t let her go, capturing her instead against his long, hard body.

  “I heard, but I don’t know what KUCP is. It sounds like a bad case of stomach flu.”

  “Oh, Jay, it’s so wonderful.” Laughing, she quit fighting him and instead covered his face with a dozen kisses, relishing the feel of his rough morning whiskers on her cheeks. “KUCP is the public radio station at the university here in town. They play classical music—”

  “Ah, that’s probably why I’ve never heard of ’em.”

  “—and they have a nighttime call-in talk show on public affairs with guests and everything. They want to interview me for the host job, Jay! Me! For public radio.”

  “That’s great, blue eyes. How’d they know you were job-hunting?”

  “I don’t know. I forgot to ask.” She’d practically forgotten her name, she’d been so surprised by the call.

  “I figured all along you’d be snapped up in a hurry as soon as the word got out that KPRX had dumped you. Maybe all those calls you made helped.”

  “Maybe, but it’s not a done deal yet. They’ve got to have dozens of applicants for a job like that, even if it doesn’t pay all that well, which it probably doesn’t given the limited funding for public radio. I was too excited by the call to ask about the salary, either.”

  “My money’s on you.”

  She scooted off the bed and out of his reach, glancing at the clock. “I can’t believe how much I have to do before this afternoon. That’s when Mr. Abbott wan
ts to see me, at three o’clock. I’ve got to get my hair done. My fingernails, too. And I really should study up on classical music.”

  Sitting up in bed, Jay yawned and ran his hands through his sleep-mussed hair. “I thought the show was about public affairs?”

  “It is, and I’ve been so wrapped up in my own problems lately—including hanging around with a certain firefighter,” she said with a grin, “that now I need a crash course in the headline news, too.” Hastily, she grabbed up some clothes and headed for the shower. “But Mr. Abbott might ask me something about who my favorite composer is. I ought to be prepared.”

  “Tell him Aton Pederisky. I think he wrote reggae music for Bob Marley in the eighties.”

  “There isn’t any such composer. You’re just making that up.” She gave Jay a whack on his leg as she passed by his side of the bed. “Besides, KUCP doesn’t exactly play that kind of music.”

  “Come to think of it, Aton was a probie when I started in the fire department. Even so, a little reggae would be good. You could start a new tradition. Liven up your late night with Lydell.”

  “Hey, I like the sound of that, and I don’t mean reggae,” she called over her shoulder as she stepped into the bathroom, closed the door and grinned into the mirror for the first time in months. “‘Late Night with Lydell.’ That really does have a nice ring to it.” It might not be network television, but it was a job and a new beginning.

  Jay leaned back against the padded headboard of the bed, listening to the shower running, and imagined warm water sluicing over Kim’s smooth, perfect shoulders. He knew she would land the job at KUCP—her voice, her experience, everything about Kim made her perfect for the job. She’d be staying in Paseo del Real and that made him glad.

  But she wouldn’t be needing him any longer. She was back on her feet, or would be soon enough. He was still stumbling around in the dark. Even when he could lose his patches, the situation wouldn’t change no matter how good his eyesight.

  He swore succinctly under his breath.

  What would she want with a man who didn’t know Bach from Beethoven, the Mideast from the Far East and Picasso from nobody?

  Getting out of bed, he found his clothes on a nearby chair and pulled them on. At least being a firefighter had taught him to be neat about where he dumped his gear. The last thing he needed when the fire bell sounded was to be fumbling to find his boots and turnout coat in the dark.

  Minutes later, Jay caught the scent of steam mingling with the honeyed fragrance of Kim’s shampoo as she came out of the bathroom.

  “Oh, you’re dressed.” He listened to her move around the bedroom, pulling back the curtains, opening the closet door. “What do you think I ought to wear for the interview?”

  Nothing at all, would be his preference if she were interviewing with him. But then, for what he had in mind, he’d hire her sight unseen.

  “You used to have a blue sweater with kind of a rolled-up collar and you wore it with beads or something. You looked dynamite in it.”

  “You remember that?” He heard her surprise. “I probably haven’t worn that sweater in a couple of years.”

  “It’s the kind of sweater a man wants to get his hands on.” And take off as soon as possible. “Besides, it matches your eyes.”

  “You’re certainly observant.”

  He smiled, slow and sexy. “The devil’s in the details, they say.”

  “Yes, well…” He heard her rummaging in the closet. “The sweater might be too casual. I’ve never met Mr. Abbott. What do you think about chic professional?”

  “I think he won’t be able to resist hiring you no matter what you’re wearing.”

  He felt the swift brush of her lips across his. “Thanks. When my nerves turn into a solid rock in my stomach this afternoon, I’ll try to remember that. God, I hate interviews.”

  “You’ll do just fine. Trust me.”

  Like a dandelion seed caught on a current of wind, she sailed away from him. Desperately, he wanted to catch her and bring her back. Not just for now but forever.

  That thought startled him. He’d never considered forever with anyone—he hadn’t actually thought it was possible. Now he discovered he’d been right all along.

  “You want to borrow my safety razor while I fix us some breakfast?” she asked.

  He swallowed the bitter taste of regret. “Thanks but I’ll wait till I get back to my place. I’ve never been particularly fond of slicing my throat first thing in the morning.”

  That’s exactly what Jay felt was happening. No matter how happy he was for Kim and her prospects for a new job, her good news sliced across his heart. Sure, the cut wasn’t deep—he’d bleed slowly. But soon the reasons they were together would drain away. Things would go back to the way they’d been before the earthquake. Wrapped up in her new career, she’d have no more need for him. Meanwhile, unless his luck turned rotten, he’d have his sight back and wouldn’t be dependent on anyone.

  Then he would go back to being just one more guy in her unseen audience who became aroused every time he heard her low, sexy voice.

  IDLY, JAY FINGERED the raised numbers on his watch, counting the minutes since Kim had dropped him off at his own house and driven off for her interview.

  He hadn’t been able to sit still so he’d walked to the fire station. Engine 61 and the paramedics had been out on a run and there wasn’t much going on, so he parked himself in the driver’s seat of the classic fire truck out back. From the smell of things, Tommy was up to his elbows cleaning grease off the engine.

  “How’d you get her to talk to you?” Tommy asked.

  Jay turned his head in the kid’s direction. “Who?”

  “That foxy lady you’ve been hanging around with.”

  Kim, of course. She’d made a hit with all the men at the station; a fifteen-year-old boy would be no exception.

  “Actually, she showed up at my house on her own one day. I think she’d decided I needed some rescuing.”

  “Oh.” The boy sounded disappointed.

  “You got some girl in mind you’d like to talk to?”

  “Maybe.”

  Jay could almost hear the kid’s shoulders lift in a shrug of mock indifference. A sure sign of adolescent hormones not knowing quite what to do with themselves. In high school Jay hadn’t had enough money to date so he might not be the best person to be giving advice. But Tommy didn’t often ask for advice; Jay had to give it his best shot.

  “Is she in any classes with you?”

  “Yeah. Algebra.”

  “Why don’t you volunteer to help her with her homework?”

  “She’s smarter than I am.”

  “Hmm, serious problem. Guess you’ll have to ask her for help then.”

  “Then she’d think I’m a stupid dweeb.”

  Fiddling with the gearshift, Jay gave that one some thought. “Not necessarily. I mean, girls kind of like it when a guy can admit he’s got weaknesses. You know, all that macho stuff can get old. If you picked a really tough question—maybe one of those extra-credit things teachers are always handing out—she’ll think you were pretty smart to even come close to getting an answer, but she’ll realize you don’t necessarily think you’re perfect.”

  Metal clanked against metal while Tommy considered Jay’s idea. “What would I say?”

  Mentally, Jay rolled his eyes. This kid was terminally shy! “Let’s see, you should try to catch her right after class so you can walk down the hall with her while you talk. Then say something like, ‘Hey, did you try such-and-such problem? That one was really hard, wasn’t it?”’

  “What if she didn’t try the problem?”

  “Well, then…” Jay hadn’t known scripting a romance would be this tough. “Suggest you try working it out together. Let her know you think she’s real smart.”

  “She’s awesome. Blows away every test.”

  “Great. Then show her you’re not intimidated by her brains.”

  “I guess….” An
other whiff of grease cleaner rose in the cool afternoon air.

  “Does this girl have a name?”

  “Yeah. It’s Rachel. Her dad owns a ’67 Mustang with a built 350 and duel carbs. Balanced and blueprinted. The whole nine yards. Totally awesome!”

  Jay grinned to himself. Apparently Rachel’s brains were only part of the attraction.

  Fingering his watch again, Jay wondered how long an interview could take. Maybe he ought to head on home—

  He heard the clicking of heels on the concrete and lifted his head.

  “Jay!” Kim called to him, her footsteps all but running. “When I went by the house and didn’t find you, I thought maybe you’d be here. It’s so exciting—oh, hi Tommy—Mr. Abbott asked me to be the guest host for tonight’s show. Sort of an audition. I’ve got to get to the library to do some research and then I need to make a ton of calls. You know, line up a few guests I can talk to on the air and let them respond to call-in questions. Assuming anybody’s listening, of course. It’s awfully short notice—”

  Jay climbed down from the fire truck expecting Kim to eventually take a breath and let him get a word in edgewise.

  “—to get anyone on air from back east—they’ve probably all gone home from the office by now—and it would really be the middle of the night there when we’re on the air, but I should be able to get some local experts. Maybe someone on oil pollution along the coastline, what it’s doing to the birds and waterfowl, that sort of thing.”

  “Just what a person with insomnia needs to put them to sleep,” Jay suggested mildly.

  “Not too titillating, huh?”

  “Probably not on Howard Stern’s list of hot topics.”

  “Well, this is public radio.” She sounded only slightly affronted by his suggestion. “I don’t want to be too outrageous.”

  Instinctively, he reached out to her, caressing her face with his fingertips. “Honey, just listening to you is all the titillation I can handle, whatever topic you come up with. You’ll be great.”

  “I hope so.” She brushed his lips with a quick kiss. “Anyway, I wanted to tell you I won’t be back until late. Can you fix your own dinner?”