With Courage And Commitment

Danny Sullivan stood there in his navy blue dress uniform, the pants and shirt perfectly creased as though he were about to stand inspection, his badge glistening. His midnight-black hair was combed back, the usually unruly curls tamed for the moment. She had an almost irrepressible urge to muss his hair with her fingers, to—

She didn’t want to go there. Not now. Not in the presence of twenty wide-eyed preschoolers.

Nor did she want to admit how her lungs seized when his eyes snared her, their color almost as bright as the royal blue the children used to color the sky in their paintings.

But he’d made it pretty obvious he didn’t like kids. They made him nervous. Very soon she’d be having a baby, who would quickly turn into a kid. Bottom line—Danny Sullivan wouldn’t be interested in pursuing a personal relationship with her.

Not in this lifetime….

Dear Reader,

March roars in like a lion this month with Harlequin American Romance’s four guaranteed-to-please reads.

We start with a bang by introducing you to a new in-line continuity series, THE CARRADIGNES: AMERICAN ROYALTY. The search for a royal heir leads to some scandalous surprises for three princesses, beginning with The Improperly Pregnant Princess by Jacqueline Diamond. CeCe Carradigne is set to become queen of a wealthy European country, until she winds up pregnant by her uncommonly handsome business rival. Talk about a shotgun wedding of royal proportions! Watch for more royals next month.

Karen Toller Whittenburgh’s series, BILLION-DOLLAR BRADDOCKS, continues this month with The Playboy’s Office Romance as middle brother Bryce Braddock meets his match in his feisty new employee. Also back this month is another installment of Charlotte Maclay’s popular series, MEN OF STATION SIX. Things are heating up between a sexy firefighter and a very pregnant single lady from his past—don’t miss the igniting passion in With Courage and Commitment. And rounding out the month is A Question of Love by Elizabeth Sinclair, a warm and wonderful reunion story.

Here’s hoping you enjoy all that Harlequin American Romance has to offer you—this month, and all the months to come!

Best,

Melissa Jeglinski

Associate Senior Editor

Harlequin American Romance

With Courage and Commitment

Charlotte Maclay

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Charlotte Maclay can’t resist a happy ending. That’s why she’s had such fun writing more than twenty titles for Harlequin American Romance, Duets and Love & Laughter, as well as several Silhouette Romance books. Particularly well-known for her volunteer efforts in her hometown of Torrance, California, Charlotte’s philosophy is that you should make a difference in your community. She and her husband have two married daughters and four grandchildren, whom they are occasionally allowed to baby-sit. She loves to hear from readers and can be reached at: P.O. Box 505, Torrance, CA 90508.

Books by Charlotte Maclay

HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

474—THE VILLAIN’S LADY

488—A GHOSTLY AFFAIR

503—ELUSIVE TREASURE

532—MICHAEL’S MAGIC

537—THE KIDNAPPED BRIDE

566—HOW TO MARRY A MILLIONAIRE

585—THE COWBOY & THE BELLY DANCER

620—THE BEWITCHING BACHELOR

643—WANTED: A DAD TO BRAG ABOUT

657—THE LITTLEST ANGEL

684—STEALING SAMANTHA

709—CATCHING A DADDY

728—A LITTLE BIT PREGNANT

743—THE HOG-TIED GROOM

766—DADDY’S LITTLE COWGIRL

788—DEPUTY DADDY

806—A DADDY FOR BECKY

821—THE RIGHT COWBOY’S BED*

825—IN A COWBOY’S EMBRACE*

886—BOLD AND BRAVE-HEARTED**

890—WITH VALOR AND DEVOTION**

894—BETWEEN HONOR AND DUTY**

915—WITH COURAGE AND COMMITMENT**

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Epilogue

Chapter One

Siren wailing, Engine 62 roared out of the station house and turned onto the main street of Paseo del Real in central California.

Riding backward behind the driver, Danny Sullivan tightened his shoulder harness, aware of the pleasant hum of adrenaline flowing through his veins. This is what a firefighter lived for—a chance to use his training. To put a little wet on the red, to douse a fire with water or foam.

“This could be a bad one,” his buddy Greg Wells in the adjacent seat commented. “Dispatch said it was a preschool.”

“Yeah, I heard.” Danny didn’t relish the thought of kids trapped in a structure fire, scared, maybe even hysterical. Definitely hard to manage. Rescue would be the first order of business. “Let’s hope they have sprinklers and that they worked.”

Looking relaxed, Wells settled into his seat. “I was kinda hoping they’d have a couple of cute teachers.”

Chuckling, Danny nodded his agreement. Between the two of them, he and Greg had an ongoing competition to see who got the first date with any good-looking single woman they happened to rescue from a fire. So far they were neck and neck. It was time for Danny to apply a little pressure, prove the Irish were head and shoulders above any Englishman—three generations removed or not—when it came to romance.

The engine peeled off the main drag of town onto a side street lined with small businesses and drab apartment houses, then pulled to a stop in front of a one-story structure with a fenced yard filled with kid’s play equipment. Gray smoke drifted up from the back half of the building, a good omen suggesting things weren’t totally out of hand. The brightly painted sign over the front entrance read Storytime Preschool.

With a flick of his wrist, Danny released his harness, grabbed his air pack and hopped down from the cab. He headed to the back of the truck for the hose.

“Thank goodness you’re here!” a woman cried. “We have to get them out.”

He turned, had a fleeting glimpse of short brown hair, a familiar face and the flash of a bright yellow blouse before she raced away toward the front door of the building.

“Stephanie?” When the heck had she come back to town?

He cursed and ran after her. Kids still had to be inside. Otherwise the fire chief’s daughter would have more sense than to go running into a burning building. But then, growing up on the same block where she lived, Danny knew Stephanie Gray could be damn mulish when she made up her mind about something.

He took the porch steps in one leap and burst through the open door. “Stephanie! Where are you?” A fire alarm was still ringing off its mount but there wasn’t much smoke, only the lingering acrid scent of burning wood and fabric. The sprinklers must have done their job. But no sign of kids, either, only building blocks and toy trucks hastily abandoned in the middle of the room.

“In here! Help me!”

He followed the sound of her voice toward the back of the house, his heart pumping.

“Oh, the poor little things,” she cried. “Hurry.”

God, he dreaded what he’d find. Injured kids were the worst. He could only hope he was in time to—

She thrust a small metal cage into his arms. “Take Arnold outside. I’ll bring Polly. We’ll have to try mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.”

“We’ll what?” Dumfounded, he stared at the cage. My God, she’d handed him a hamster, who was lying motionless on his side in a pile of wood shavings. “What about the kids?” He whirled, looking for an unconscious child curled up in a corner. Or a hot spot the sprinklers hadn’t entirely cooled.

“They’re fine.” With her arms around a matching cage, she shoved him back toward the front of the house. “They’re all outside at our assembly point.”

“You’re telling me—” She’d risked her neck—and his—for a couple of hamsters? Somehow, it figured.

Greg and Jay Tolliver from Engine 61 brushed past him, pulling a length of two-inch hose through the building as he went out the door. Their gazes rested on the cage he gripped in his hand.

“Great rescue, Sullivan,” Greg said, grinning. “Way to go!”

So great, Danny was likely to get razzed about this for months. At least until somebody else at Station 6 did something equally heroic.

“Hurry up.” Stephanie placed the cage she was carrying on the ground well away from the refurbished house, kneeling beside it. “The poor little things can’t be without air long.”

“You really expect me to give a hamster mouth-to—”

The expression she shot him practically made him bleed. If he didn’t do this, he’d be toast in the department. Not that her old man would do anything overt, but Stephanie was the chief’s daughter. Hell, Danny hadn’t even known she was back in town. Last he’d heard she was in San Francisco. Just his luck she’d shown up here during his shift, in the middle of a fire, with a frazzled hamster needing kissy-face resuscitation.

With a muttered curse, Danny lifted Arnold out of the cage. Damn, he’d never live this one down.

POLLY GAVE A TINY COUGH, shuddered and began breathing on her own.

With a relieved sigh, Stephanie Gray settled back on her haunches. It was bad enough that the candle-making project had gone so desperately awry. She didn’t know what she would have done if she’d had to explain to the children that their pet hamsters had died of smoke inhalation.

She glanced over at Danny to see how he was doing. All turned out in his bunker pants, heavy jacket and helmet, he looked bigger and taller and broader than she remembered him. But her recollections were quite clear of his flashing blue eyes—Irish eyes—and wickedly sexy smile. As an adolescent, she’d spent hours spying on him down the block, making up any excuse to stroll by when he was outside. Not that he’d noticed.

Unfortunately she had his attention now, and he was scowling.

“Didn’t your dad teach you anything about fires? You could have been killed going back in there.”

She gave him her sweetest, most innocent smile. “But you were there to save me, weren’t you? Like always.”

“Just because one time I pulled you out of a tree when you got stuck doesn’t mean I’m going to save your bacon every time you get in trouble.”

If only he could. But no one could help her out of the mess she’d gotten herself in this time, which is why she’d moved home, her tail figuratively between her legs.

“So how’d the fire start?” Idly he stroked Arnold, who appeared to be breathing again. Feeling pretty grumpy, too, because the damn hamster bit down on Danny’s thumb. He swore. Loudly. Stuffed Arnold back into his cage, and gave his hand a quick shake.

“Hush. You can’t use those kind of words in front of the children.”

Warily he eyed the preschoolers, who had lined up along the outside of the fence. Alice Tucker, Stephanie’s friend and the owner of the preschool, had them well in hand.

“Are Arnold and Polly gonna be okay?” Bobby Richardson asked.

“They’re fine, children,” Stephanie answered.

“Unless I strangle the one with the fangs,” Danny grumbled under his breath.

Stephanie swallowed a laugh. Despite his gruff, macho exterior, Danny was among the sweetest, most sympathetic guys she’d ever known. She’d seen him put baby birds back in their nest when they’d fallen out and stand up for younger children who were being bullied by bigger kids. Though she’d never tell him she knew the truth about him. It would ruin the tough image he’d tried to project ever since his father had deserted him and his mother. Danny had been about ten at the time.

The rest of the firefighters were coming back out of the building now, coiling the hoses to put them back on the truck.

“Thanks, gentlemen,” she called to them with a wave.

“There’s still a pretty big mess in the kitchen,” the battalion chief told her. “We’ll get it cleaned up for you. Won’t we, Sullivan?” he said pointedly.

“Yes, sir.” Danny got to his feet.

Awkwardly Stephanie did, too. She knew the instant Danny realized she was pregnant, six months along but on her otherwise slender frame it looked as though she were carrying an elephant.

His eyes widened and his jaw dropped halfway to his knees. “Stephanie? Twiggy? What the hell happened to you?”

She didn’t know which irritated her more—the fact that he’d used his old nickname for her when she’d been a skinny thirteen-year-old or the sudden surge of shame that coursed through her.

Lifting her chin, she looked square into his piercing blue eyes. “Same thing that happens to a lot of women.” She’d thought she was in love, accidentally got pregnant and found out the feeling wasn’t reciprocated.

“Man, I didn’t even know you were married.”

She winced but she could hardly keep her marital status a secret when he still lived down the street from her father’s house where she was staying. Temporarily. “I’m not.”

If anything, he looked more stunned than when he’d realized she was pregnant. He opened his mouth to speak then slammed it shut again.

“Hey, Sullivan!” one of the men shouted. “You gonna talk all day to that pretty lady or are you gonna earn your salary for a change?”

He glanced over his shoulder then back to Stephanie. “I, uh, gotta go. I’ll see you around, huh?”

“Sure. We’re neighbors, after all.”

“Yeah, right.” Turning, he jogged up to the porch and inside the building.

Well, she sure as heck had ruined her reputation with the tough guy down the street, hadn’t she? She could only imagine what he was thinking now. The skinny, Goodie Two Shoes daughter of the fire chief had shown her true colors. She wasn’t any better than any other woman and no more able to hang on to a boyfriend now than she had been when she’d worn braces in high school and had knobby knees.

She sighed. Unrequited adolescent infatuation didn’t get any less painful at the age of twenty-five.

Picking up the two cages, she carried them to the children waiting by the fence. “Careful now,” she warned them. “Polly and Arnold are a little upset by all the excitement. No fingers in the cages, remember.”

The youngsters gathered around, oohing and aahing, reassuring each other and their pets that everything was all right. That wasn’t precisely true, at least not for Stephanie. But she was determined that someday—someday soon—things would be all right again. She’d build a new life here in Paseo del Real. She’d raise her baby and they’d both be just fine, thank you very much.

So what if Danny now thought she was a slut?

“You really shouldn’t have gone back in there,” Alice said, her voice soft-spoken so the children wouldn’t become upset. “With you being pregnant and all, the firemen would have—”

“Firefighters don’t generally risk their lives for a couple of hamsters.” Guiltily she realized she’d put Danny at risk—and her baby—even though she’d known the sprinkler system had already squelched the flames. There could have been other hidden dangers. She’d simply lost her head in the urgency of the moment, anxious to rescue the childrens’ pets. If her father heard about this particular stunt of hers, she’d be in deep yogurt. Harlan Gray was very protective of his men.

Of her, too, she admitted. Particularly so since her pregnancy had shown and she’d had to admit the truth. There would be no wedding in her future. She’d practically had to tie her father down to prevent him from driving to San Francisco and throttling Edgar Bresse with his bare hands.

With a sweet smile and an angelic face, Alice waggled her brows suggestively. “That guy who brought out Arnold was certainly a hunk. Maybe we ought to have fires more often, at least small ones.”

“No, thanks.” Danny was the last man on earth she’d wanted to see her pregnant and unwed. From now on, she’d keep her distance. Even if it was only across the street and a few houses down the block.

By now parents had heard about the fire and were arriving to pick up their children. Alice talked with each mom or dad, assuring them the damage had been slight, limited to the kitchen area. After a good airing and a little elbow grease, they would be open for business tomorrow morning.

Stephanie guessed it would take a lot of elbow grease to get the kitchen back in working order again. They would have to make some adjustments for snacks and lunchtime.

“Miss Stephanie?” Bobby Richardson looked up at her with sad brown eyes. “I’m sorry I spilled the candle stuff.”

“It’s all right, honey.” Kneeling, she hugged the four-year-old. He’d been acting silly and knocked over the hot paraffin, which then caught fire. They’d all been lucky no one had been burned. “It was an accident.”

“You’re not mad at me?”

“Of course not. Accidents happen.” Just as unintentional pregnancies happen if you get a little careless, like when you’re taking an antibiotic and you’re on the Pill. That combination changes everything. “But we’ve both learned a good lesson about being careful, haven’t we?”

Solemnly he nodded.

She squeezed him more tightly, his slender young body molding against hers. Someday soon she’d have a little girl as sweet and cuddly as Bobby, proving that “accidents” could be a blessing.

BACK AT THE STATION, Danny stripped to his Skivvies and headed for the shower. Greg was already there singing one of his favorite country-western tunes. Nobody had told him his voice was good. Just the opposite, in fact. Not that their kidding had slowed him down much. Hell, he probably would have brought his guitar into the shower with him if he hadn’t been so protective of his precious instrument. Would have worn his Stetson, too, for that matter.

Truth was, Greg probably could have had a career in show biz but chose firefighting instead. That and helping operate his family’s nearby cattle ranch, located on the rolling hills between Paseo and the coast.

“So, did you ask that hot-looking teacher out?” Greg asked.

Danny bristled. He knew who Greg meant, and she wasn’t hot, at least he’d never thought of her that way. She was—hell, he didn’t know what to think now. How could Stephanie have gotten pregnant and not have a husband? She wasn’t that kind of girl. “No.”

“Then she’s still available, huh? Maybe I’ll just drop by the preschool tomorrow when I—”

Danny grabbed him by the arm and swung him around. Soap suds flew in the air, spattering the white tile wall and across the floor. “What’s the matter with you, man? Are you blind? She’s pregnant. Didn’t you see that?”

“Hey, ease up. I only got a glimpse of her, okay? I didn’t know she was married.”

“Yeah, well…” He wasn’t about to tell Wells that the chief’s daughter was pregnant and not married. It was none of Greg’s business. None of his either. “So she’s off-limits, okay?”

“Fine by me. I’m not eager to be a daddy anytime soon, anyway.”

“Me, neither.” And he resented like hell the stab of regret he’d felt when he’d realized Stephanie was pregnant—and he hadn’t been the one to get her that way.

He had no idea where that thought had come from. It wasn’t as if he’d ever so much as dated her. She’d been too damn young. Eight years his junior. And by the time she’d grown up, he was moving in a lot faster crowd than she could have handled, and her old man was the big boss in the fire department, for God’s sake.

Which hadn’t stopped Danny from keeping his eye on her over the years. Noticing her sexy little behind as she strolled by. Checking out her breasts when she’d gone from twiggy to nicely rounded.

Yeah, he’d kept an eye on her. And his hands off.

That was still a good idea.

“So,” Greg said as he turned off the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. “What’s it like to kiss a hamster?”

Jay Tolliver chose that exact moment to come into the shower room. “Looked to me like ol’ hot lips here was enjoying himself. Whaddaya think?”

Mike Gables sauntered in, buck-naked like the rest of them. “The singles scene must really be getting tough if a hamster is the best our buddy can do. Maybe we oughta fix him up with Emma Jean downstairs. At least she could read his palm while he worked on his technique.”

Danny groaned and shut off the shower. Emma Jean Witkowsky was the department’s dispatcher and self-appointed gypsy fortune-teller, whose predictions more times than not were a hundred and eighty degrees wrong. Dating her was not an option he wanted to consider.

And he sure as hell didn’t want to think about the next week or so until his buddies forgot all about the hamster incident. His next few shifts were going to be the pits.

His days off weren’t going to be too swift, either, knowing Stephanie was living down the block again. And was pregnant with some other guy’s baby.

When he returned to his quarters on the third floor of the main fire station, he discovered someone had cut out a big cardboard star and propped it on his bed. Across it they’d written #1 Rodent Kisser.

He groaned again. This was going to be a very long shift.

THAT EVENING, AFTER HOURS of scrubbing soot-stained walls, Stephanie placed a bubbling dish of vegetable lasagna on the table in front of her father. As a trade-off for her room and board, she was keeping house for her dad. Which had the added benefit of preventing his lady friend, Councilwoman Evie Anderson—a widow and Paseo del Real’s worst cook—from bringing him meals. Tonight, though, Stephanie was so tired she would personally be willing to give Evie’s culinary efforts a try.

“I understand you had some excitement at the preschool today.”

Her hands stilled on the salad bowl she was about to deliver to the table. Had the word gotten back to him about the Great Hamster Rescue?

“We had a small fire,” she said casually. “Nothing too dramatic.”

“Two engines and a rescue unit rolled on the call.”

She set the salad down and took her seat across from her father. “Good response time, too. You can be pleased about that.”