He had Kristin right where he wanted her. In his bed.

Unfortunately he wasn’t there with her.

Admiring Kristin from across the room, Mike lowered his duffel quietly to the floor. Even without makeup, she looked vibrant, as though the smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose and cheeks were a symbol of her energy. Her lips were slightly open in readiness for a kiss.

Eager to taste their flavor again, Mike moved beside her, sat down on the edge of the bed and bent over to touch her lips with his.

Warm and soft. Feminine. Parting on a sweet sigh that took possession of his senses.

His body reacted the way a fire ignites from spontaneous combustion. No amount of water on the flame would be able to put out the sensual blaze that rose within him.

He wanted Kristin McCoy as he’d never wanted any other woman in his life.

Dear Reader,

Welcome to Harlequin American Romance. With your search for satisfying reading in mind, every month Harlequin American Romance aims to offer you a stimulating blend of heartwarming, emotional and deeply romantic stories.

Unexpected arrivals lead to the sweetest of surprises as Harlequin American Romance celebrates the love only a baby can bring, in our brand-new promotion, AMERICAN BABY, which begins this month with Jacqueline Diamond’s delightful Surprise, Doc! You’re a Daddy! After months of searching for her missing husband, Meg Avery finally finds him—only, Dr. Hugh Menton doesn’t remember her or their child!

With Valor and Devotion, the latest book in Charlotte Maclay’s exciting MEN OF STATION SIX series, is a must-read about a valorous firefighter who rescues an orphaned boy. Will the steadfast bachelor consider becoming a devoted family man after meeting the little boy’s pretty social worker? JUST FOR KIDS, Mary Anne Wilson’s new miniseries, debuts with Regarding the Tycoon’s Toddler…. This trilogy focuses on a corporate day-care center and the lives and loves of those who work there. And don’t miss The Biological Bond by Jamie Denton, the dramatic story of a mother who is reunited with the child she’d been forced to give away, when her daughter’s adoptive single father seeks her help.

Enjoy this month’s offerings, and be sure to return each and every month to Harlequin American Romance!

Wishing you happy reading,

Melissa Jeglinski

Associate Senior Editor

Harlequin American Romance

With Valor and Devotion

Charlotte Maclay

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dedicated to Kay Hyland and her fellow social workers, who give so much of themselves and receive so little thanks in return.

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 and Harlequin Duets, plus 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 two 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 90501.

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**

WHO’S WHO AT FIRESTATION SIX

Mike Gables—The most “studly” firefighter at the station, he’s known as much for his ability to fight fires as his success in the bedroom.

Kristin McCoy—The dedicated social worker has vowed to stay clear of men with quick, sexy smiles designed to seduce a woman…then break her heart.

Randy Marshall—The six-year-old loves his dog, Suzie, best of all, but what he really needs is a family of his own.

Harlan Gray—The dedicated fire chief will go to the wall for his men; the only thing he can’t do is escape a pursuing councilwoman.

Councilwoman Evie Anderson—Has her eye on the most eligible widower in town, Chief Gray.

Emma Jean Witowsky—The dispatcher has an uncanny way of predicting the future—especially when it comes to matters of the heart.

Tommy Tonka—An adolescent genius in all things mechanical, but he needs help from his firefighter friends when it comes to girls.

Mack Buttons—The station mascot, a five-year-old chocolate dalmatian who loves kids and the Men of Station Six.

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

Epilogue

Chapter One

Flames licked out the window and up the side of the house, red and orange tongues scorching the stucco black. Smoke wormed its way through the attic vents into the night sky. Glass popped, and the smell of burning wood filled the cool air of an early summer evening. A faded For Sale sign stood in the weed-choked front yard, as abandoned as the house itself.

Tightening his helmet strap, his adrenaline giving him a nice edge, Mike Gables swung down from his seat behind the driver of Engine 61 and jogged to the back of the truck. The gold and black crest on the side of the vehicle read Paseo del Real, California.

“Let’s put some wet on that red before the guys from 62 get to have all the fun,” he shouted to Jay Tolliver, his buddy and fellow firefighter. Mike wished they had been the first engine company on the scene, but the driver of Engine 62 had beaten 61 out of the station by milliseconds. They were already putting water on the fire.

We’ll get ’em next time, Mike thought with a competitive grin.

Giving Mike a thumbs-up, Jay took the nozzle and headed across the yard. Right behind him, Mike hefted the hose over his shoulder, reeling it out from the truck.

“Fireman! Fireman!” A gray-haired woman in a housecoat and slippers came running toward them, waving frantically. “There’s a little boy inside. He’s in the back bedroom. Oh, dear heaven! The poor little thing. I heard him crying. You’ve got to—”

With no more than a look that communicated what needed to be done, both Mike and Jay dropped the hose and raced toward the back of the house. The place was entirely dark. No curtains on the windows. No sign anyone had lived there for months.

Out front, a second police car arrived, siren screaming, lights flashing red-and-orange stripes along the shadowed path to the rear of the house.

“Suzie, where are you?” a child’s voice cried.

“Damn, there’re two of ’em,” Mike muttered. Kids. He hated it when the red devil went after kids, trying to suck the life out of them. Bad enough when it was grown-ups who were trapped. It wasn’t a fair fight when kids were involved. Mike’s job was to even the odds.

“I can’t see anything inside,” Jay shouted, trying to peer in the old-fashioned guillotine window. He gave it a shove but it didn’t open.

Mike pulled his heavy flashlight from its loop at his waist. “I got it. Stand back.”

He smashed the back of the flashlight through one of the panes, reached inside past the jagged glass, unlatched the window and opened it.

“Come here, Suzie,” the child coughed and sobbed. “Please, Suzie.”

“Give me a boost,” Mike ordered.

Jay cupped his hands, and Mike used them to lever himself inside, diving headfirst. He hit the floor with a thud, and coughed as smoke filled his lungs.

Stay low, you go; stay high, you die. Mike reminded himself of the old firefighters’ adage as he tried to get his bearings in the dark. Beyond two feet, smoke swallowed the light he shone around the room. He began circling to the right on his hands and knees so he’d know how to get back out again if there was a flashover.

But he wasn’t going anywhere until he found the children.

“Where are you, kid? Talk to me, okay?”

“I can’t find Suzie.”

Mike followed the sound of the young, frightened voice. “I’ll get her. You just stay put and keep talking.”

The child coughed again.

If the kid hadn’t made a sound right then, Mike might have missed him and passed right by what appeared to be a walk-in closet. He flashed his light inside and caught a glimpse of a boy with big brown terrified eyes. He looked to be five or six years old.

“Come on, fella, let’s get you out of here.” He reached for the boy.

The kid backed farther into the closet. “No! I won’t go without Suzie!”

Mike didn’t like the idea of manhandling the kid, but the smoke wasn’t getting any better. He had to get the youngster out of there in a hurry.

“I promise I’ll come back for Suzie, but for now you’ve got to do as I say.”

“No!” the child wailed, making himself as small as he could in the very back of the closet. “I want Suzie!”

Losing patience wouldn’t help. “What’s your name, son?”

The boy snuffled and coughed again. “Randy.”

“Great, Randy. Now this is what we’re gonna do. I’m gonna carry you out the window, then I’m gonna—”

“No!”

Clearing his own lungs with a cough, Mike flashed the light around. If he could spot Suzie—

“Is Suzie your sister, Randy?”

He shook his head. “Nuh-uh. She’s my dog ’n’ she’s all I’ve got.”

Mike heard a plea in the boy’s voice that was more than a spoiled kid wanting his pet back. Something that went far deeper.

From outside, Jay shouted, “You okay in there?”

Mike gritted his teeth. “Yeah, we’re just hunky-dory.”

He couldn’t mess around any longer. Kids couldn’t tolerate a whole lot of smoke. Neither could he.

Lunging for the boy, Mike wrapped his arm around the kid’s middle and started to back out of the closet, still keeping on his hands and knees. Toting the youngster around in that position was like carrying an angry, oversize centipede, a hundred arms and legs flailing while the boy screamed that he wouldn’t go anywhere without Suzie. Randy’s heel caught Mike in his solar plexus. He grunted as the air whooshed out of his lungs.

And they said dogs were loyal to their masters. Apparently, in Randy’s case, it worked both ways.

“Are there any other people in the house?” he asked the child.

“Just Suzie. And she’s mine!”

At the window, Mike passed the squirming, thrashing boy to Jay.

“You gotta save Suzie,” Randy cried. Great big tears filled the boy’s eyes, and his chin trembled. “You promised!”

“Who’s Suzie?” Jay asked, barely able to contain the youngster in his arms.

Mike rolled his eyes. “Don’t ask.”

Turning back into the smoke-filled room, Mike knew it was against departmental rules to risk a firefighter’s life for an animal. But dammit, it was the kid’s dog. Sometimes rules needed to be broken.

Getting as low as he could, he squirmed across the floor. Kids panicked in a fire. So did animals. Mike’s best guess was that the dog would go into hiding. But where?

The smoke was actually a little lighter now, making it easier for him to breathe as the rest of the fire crew got the flames under control. Mike flashed his light around. If the sense of loyalty between Randy and his dog was mutual, Suzie wouldn’t have gone far.

And she hadn’t. The dog was tucked under a makeshift bed that was little more than a cot. Who were these people who were living in an otherwise vacant house, Mike wondered. And where were Randy’s parents?

The dog didn’t react when Mike pulled her out from under the bed. A medium-sized dog of indiscriminate breeding, she lay limply in his arms as he lifted her. Mike couldn’t tell if she was still breathing or not.

“Come on, Suzie. If you die on ol’ Randy, it’s gonna kill the kid.”

He made it back to the window, climbing out awkwardly with the dog in his arms, then walked to the front of the house. Randy spotted him immediately.

With a cry that was so filled with desolation it nearly broke Mike’s heart, the boy pulled away from the paramedic who’d been working on him and ran through the weed-filled yard to Mike.

“Is she dead?” he sobbed.

“I don’t know, son. I really don’t know.” Mike continued walking toward the paramedic truck with the dog in his arms, Randy clutching his leg as if he and the boy were surgically attached. “You got any oxygen, Brett?” he asked the paramedic.

“For the dog?”

“Suzie’s real important to Randy. Let’s give it a shot.”

Brett shrugged. “Whatever.”

They all knelt together in what was a prayerful circle—Randy and Mike holding the dog, the paramedic cupping an oxygen mask over the dog’s muzzle. Tears of grief streamed down the boy’s face. If truth be known, Mike had a few tears in his eyes, too. As a kid he’d never been allowed to have a dog—not even a mutt like this shaggy-haired combination collie-terrier-and-who-knew-what-else. At Randy’s age, Mike would have cheerfully done chores for a year in any of the foster homes where he’d lived if they had let him have a dog of his own. It had never happened.

Suzie’s tail twitched.

“She’s alive!” Randy hugged the dog so tight, Suzie whined.

“Easy, son,” Mike said, and coughed. Gently, he rested his hand on the back of the boy’s head. “Let her catch her breath before you squeeze her to death.”

The paramedic backed off with the oxygen and smiled. “Looks like a good rescue to me.”

“Yep.” But Mike still wondered where the boy’s parents were, and why he’d been in the house all alone. The fire had been suppressed, nothing but the lingering smell of smoke as the crews mopped up. And still there was no sign of a family member or even a baby-sitter.

Brett said, “We’re going to transport the boy. He needs to be checked out for smoke inhalation.”

“You hear that, Randy? They’re going to take you to the hospital. You get to ride in an ambulance. Pretty cool, huh?”

Even as the dog was licking his face, the boy’s eyes were wide and distrustful. “What about Suzie?”

“Somebody will take care of her. She’ll be okay.”

“You promise?”

“Yeah, I promise.” When the boy still looked skeptical, Mike said, “I went back in and got Suzie, didn’t I?”

That seemed to convince Randy. He gave his dog another hug, burying his face in Suzie’s fur. “You be good, Suzie. I’ll come back and get you as soon as I can.”

Setting Suzie on the ground where the paramedic could grab the dog’s collar, Mike hefted the boy into his arms. “You want me to fix it so the guys in the ambulance use their siren?”

Randy’s expression brightened. “Can you do that?”

Mike grinned. “Sure. Firefighters can do anything.” He took off his helmet and plopped it on Randy’s head.

“Cool,” the boy said and settled comfortably to ride on Mike’s hip to the ambulance.

“Hey, Mike,” Brett called after him. “You’d better get checked out at the hospital, too. You were in that house a long time. You could have some inhalation problems.”

Mike looked at the paramedic in surprise. He’d been coughing a bit but he didn’t think he’d sucked in too much smoke. No big deal.

But then, there were a lot of good-looking nurses who worked at Paseo del Real Community Hospital. He might as well drop by to see how they were doing.

THE PHONE woke Kristin McCoy at 1:02 a.m. Groaning, she rolled over and stared at the instrument. Unless it was a drunk who’d dialed the wrong number, a call at this hour did not bode well. At the very least it meant she’d drawn the short straw tonight as the Immediate Response Social Worker for Children’s Services assigned to handle emergencies.

Moments later she discovered that was the case. A child in the hospital, no parents or guardians in sight. She’d be acting in loco parentis for the boy and trying to figure out where he belonged.

Dressing hastily, she brushed her unruly auburn curls into a loose ponytail and got in her car for the drive to the hospital. Suddenly a wave of grief swept over her, blindsiding her like a tsunami. The dark streets, the stillness of the hour, had triggered a memory of another time, a frantic drive to the hospital, ambulance siren blaring. Fear clawing at her with razor-sharp talons, so painful she thought her chest was being ripped open.

Her baby. Just two months old. Not breathing. His soft skin icy cold to the touch. His sweet little body limp. How was it possible? He’d been fine only hours before, despite a runny nose. Laughing at her. Squirming, feet kicking while she changed his diaper.

Bobby! A victim of SIDS—Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. Dead before he’d had a chance to really live.

Her throat clogged, and she had to blink away the tears that blurred her vision. Six years and the grief still hadn’t gone away. It lay there in her gut, twisting through her at unexpected moments. When she saw a child the age Bobby would have been if he had lived. When she heard an infant cry with a desperate hungry sound. Or simply when she woke to find her arms empty of the burden she had so lovingly carried.

Dear God, she missed him so much!

Forcing her anguish aside, she focused on the nearly empty streets of Paseo del Real en route to the hospital. Forced herself to think of something mundane. Something that didn’t tear up her insides and make her want to weep.

A college town in central California just east of the coastal range of mountains, Paseo del Real’s population had exploded during the eighties and nineties as people fled the Los Angeles area in search of a quieter lifestyle. They’d brought with them traffic congestion, miles of tract houses, and most of the problems of big cities—including abandoned children, Kristin mused as she pulled into the parking lot of the hospital.

She angled her Volkswagen convertible into a spot near the emergency entrance. The lot was only half full at this hour, mostly vehicles of employees working the eleven-to-seven shift.

Inside, a couple with an infant were waiting in the lobby, an older man was dozing nearby. Kristin waved to the security guard who was lounging against a faux-granite pillar in the center of the room and went through the automatic doors to the nursing station. Adrian Goodfellow was the charge nurse on duty, a woman with brassy-blond hair, a quick silver smile and a heart made of gold.

“Understand you have someone for me, Addy,” Kristin said.

The nurse looked up from the chart she’d been checking and gave a bright smile that lit her eyes. “Sakes, woman, this is Saturday night. Why aren’t you out on the town having a high ol’ time?”

“Same reason you’re here. I’m working.” Both she and Addy were single, but despite Addy’s twelve-hour shifts, she managed to have more dates in a week than Kristin had in a year. Not that Kristin was envious. She’d been burned once by a man and had learned to be wary.

“We gotta do somethin’ about your social life, girlfriend. It’s not healthy for a woman your age—”

“I’m not that old,” she objected. Though granted, between the heart-wrenching cases she handled and her own personal history, she sometimes felt ancient compared to her twenty-four years.

“Shoot, honey, by the time I was your—”

“Addy, there’s a child here,” Kristin interrupted. “No parents, no guardian. I’m supposed to leap into action.”

“Oh, right.” She pulled a chart from the pile on her desk. “You’re gonna love this one. Randy Marshall, a six-year-old minx if I ever saw one. A real charmer. Claims his mother is dead, and he can’t quite remember who he’s been living with.”

Kristin took the chart from her. “Is he hurt?”

“A little smoke inhalation. Doc Plum wants to keep him overnight for observation. They’ll move him upstairs pretty soon.”

“Okay, I’ll go meet our young minx.”

Addy gestured over her shoulder toward a curtained examining room and waggled her eyebrows. “Mike Gables is in there with him now.”

Kristin blinked, confused. “A relative?”

“Lord, no, honey. You really gotta get out more. Mike Gables is the most studly firefighter in town. He’s probably dated every single nurse in the hospital—yours truly included—plus a few of the married ones, would be my guess. In a world of hunks, he rates a solid ten. He’s the guy that rescued the little boy and ended up needing to be checked out himself.”

While it was all very noble that the firefighter had risked his own life to rescue a child, Kristin bristled at the thought of a man who dated every woman he met. She’d fallen once for a sweet-talker who hadn’t believed in commitment, a regular Prince Charming who’d walked out on her at the most critical moment of her life. She didn’t plan to go down that path again.

Squaring her shoulders, she headed for the examining room. As she reached for the curtain, a childish giggle greeted her, followed by the low rumble of baritone laughter.

A disquieting shiver of awareness rolled down her spine and she mentally chided herself. A deep, seductive voice did not make him a ten on her scale.

She pulled back the curtain and was met by two sets of dark brown eyes that flashed with amusement and intelligence. The owner of the older set stood, a slow smile curling lips that could only be described as dangerously kissable. Still dressed in his turnout coat and pants, his jacket hung open revealing a T-shirt pulled taut over a well-muscled chest. His mussed saddle-brown hair invited a woman to tame the rebellious waves.

Damn! An eleven!

Forcing her gaze away from the firefighter, Kristin smiled at the child. “You must be Randy. I’m Kristin McCoy from Children’s Services.”

“Did you bring Suzie?”

Her gaze darted to Mike for an explanation. What she got was a thousand-watt smile.

“His dog. Suzie’s real special to Randy. We rescued her from the fire, too. Had to give her oxygen.”

It was even harder this time to look away from the firefighter, which irritated Kristin no end. Normally she had far better control over her reactions to any man, particularly those who were smooth talkers. But then, she didn’t often meet an eleven.

Her gaze snapped back to the boy. “I’m sorry, Randy. I didn’t know about your dog, but I’m sure someone is taking good care of her.”

The child hung his head. “She probably misses me.”

“Yes, she probably does,” Kristin said softly. It was all she could do not to take the child in her arms and hold him close. But the ability to distance oneself from a client was sometimes all that kept a social worker sane in Children’s Services. That was a struggle Kristin fought almost every day. “Why don’t we talk about where your family is, and then we can get you and Suzie and your family all back together again.”

“I dunno,” the boy mumbled.

“He says his mom’s dead,” the firefighter said. “By the way, I’m Mike Gables.”

“Yes, I know.” She didn’t look at him this time.

“My reputation precedes me?”

“You could say that.”

His amused chuckle teased around the edges of the barrier she’d erected years ago to protect herself from men like Mike Gables.

“Randy, you’re going to have to tell me who you were living with.”

“I can’t ’member. I must have hit my head.”

“Hit your—”

“Amnesia,” Mike suggested mildly. “A bad case of voluntarius forgetingus. It’s in all the medical textbooks. Very serious.”

The boy looked up hopefully. His hair was as straight as Mike’s was wavy and might have been cut with pinking shears it was so uneven. “Yeah, that’s what I gots.”

Kristin suppressed a smile. “I see.” But that wouldn’t help her to locate whatever adults were responsible for Randy. “Maybe he’ll experience a spontaneous cure by the morning. I’ve heard of that happening in cases like this.” She risked a glance at Mike. He looked troubled.

“Can I go to sleep now? I think it’s past my bedtime.”

“It certainly is.” Despite her vow to keep her emotional distance, she reached down and covered the boy with a light blanket, letting her hand linger in a caress. He was about the age Bobby would have…

She thrust the thought aside. “Do you want me to stay until they take you upstairs?”

His eyelids drooping, he shook his head.

Mike gestured that they should leave. Instinctively, Kristin knew she shouldn’t go anywhere with the man, not even as far as the nurses’ station. But it seemed childish to object.

He followed her out of the cubicle, a little too closely, she thought. She could feel his eyes on her, the heat of his body warming the air around her. Or maybe she just imagined that he’d slipped inside her personal space. Whatever the case, her skin flushed and the hairs on her nape rose. To her dismay, she suddenly wished she’d worn an austere business suit tonight instead of casual slacks and a boat-neck T-shirt. Protective armor to bolster her good sense would have been a good idea, too.

Behind her, Mike was fascinated by the sassy sway of her ponytail—like a determined red flag warning him off—in contrast to the inviting swing of her hips. A woman of contradictions, he suspected. But then, what woman wasn’t?

He smiled to himself. This one had green eyes, not bright like spring grass, but a deeper shade that made him think of a forest glade that held dark, painful secrets. An intriguing thought and more fanciful than was his usual style.

She stopped, turned abruptly, and he almost ran into her. A part of him wished he’d taken advantage of the opportunity to touch her, to see if her skin was as soft as it appeared. Maybe later….

She looked up at him with those deep, secret-filled eyes. “Did Randy tell you anything about who’d he’d been living with?”

“Nope, and I don’t think he’s going to either.”

Her nicely arched auburn brows lowered into a frown. “Why not?”

“The house had been vacant a long time. I’d guess they were squatters and maybe left him on his own while they went off to the movies or something. From what I saw, they didn’t have much in the way of possessions. Itinerants would be my guess and probably leery of the law.” He shrugged. “Maybe the cops can find out something from the neighbors but I wouldn’t bet my paycheck on it.”

“If I can’t find his family or a responsible adult, I’ll have to place him in foster care.”

“A typical bureaucratic response.”

She looked surprised by his sharp tone. “That’s how the system works. You can’t leave a child alone.”

“Sometimes it’d be better for the kid,” he muttered, knowing full well that wasn’t the case for a boy as young as Randy. Unless someone turned up, he’d become just another cog in the system, and a pretty damn helpless one at that. But Ms. McCoy—social worker—being on the other end of the stick, couldn’t fully understand that. “Maybe he’s already in the system. Maybe that was a foster family he was living with and he’d just as soon not go back.”

“Our foster families aren’t usually squatting in an empty house,” she said defensively. “They’re checked out better than that.”

“Usually.”

“Could he be a runaway?”

“Pretty young for that. And I think there was too much stuff in there for him to have carried it on his own—an old cot he slept on, a mattress in the master bedroom and some basic equipment in the kitchen.”

“Then it’s a mystery, isn’t it?” She glanced around as the double doors opened to the ambulance entrance and an elderly man was brought in on a gurney.

Addy swept past them with a clipboard and a tray of supplies for the new arrival.

“Hey, don’t wear out your dancing shoes, Addy,” Mike warned with a grin.

“Sugar, if you’re askin’, I’m dancing.” She laughed as she vanished into the examining room with the patient.

Mike smiled after her. He’d dated Addy a couple of times, his limit with most women. She was fun, full of laughter and a helluva good dancer. But he’d found if he saw a woman more than once or twice they got the wrong idea. A few laughs, a bottle of wine and a bouquet of flowers were all any woman could expect from him. A man who’d been raised in a dozen different foster homes in the same number of years didn’t know anything about commitment.

When he turned back to Kristin, she’d set her jaw in a stubborn line. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to call the police and ask them to check with the neighbors first thing in the morning. Maybe they can learn something of value.”

“Maybe,” he said noncommittally, wondering why she’d gone all torque-jawed on him. He didn’t usually have that effect on a pretty woman.

“Meanwhile, I’m sure you have other things to do. I’ll look in on Randy later to see that he’s settled comfortably in his room.”

With that, she turned on her heel and marched out of the emergency room. Mike watched the red semaphore wagging its danger signal. Definitely an intriguing woman. Too damn bad she was a social worker.

“Good lookin’, isn’t she?” Addy dropped a patient chart on the counter and unhooked her stethoscope from around her neck.

“You could say that. But I get the feeling she doesn’t like me very much.”

“What? A woman capable of resisting your charms? Bet that doesn’t happen often.”

“Nope, it doesn’t.” And Mike couldn’t quite help but think he’d enjoy the challenge of changing Kristin’s mind, no matter what her job was.

Chapter Two

Mike spent his day off on the boat he kept in the marina at Morro Bay. Something always needed to be done—the motor overhauled, the decks wiped clean, the scuba gear checked. Not that he objected. On a sunny day, it was a helluva nice way to spend some time—with the added bonus of frequent female companionship as women dropped by to say hello.

Funny how this time he’d compared them all to a green-eyed redhead he’d met only briefly in the emergency room. And they’d all come up short.

Now, as he parked his pickup behind Station Six the next morning, he was ready to get back to work on his twenty-four-hour eight-to-eight shift. He wasn’t an adrenaline junky, but he needed some serious work to keep his mind off a libido that had a will of its own. He was kind of hoping they’d be training on the tower today. A few trips up and down that sucker hauling a mile of hose over his shoulder and he’d sleep just fine tonight. No fantastic dreams featuring a redhead to interrupt his Zs.

Dressed in his uniform, duffle bag over his shoulder, he went inside, taking the stairs to the third-floor living quarters two at a time.

“Hail, our hero!” Virtually all of the members of C-shift were waiting for him in the dining hall along with every guy on B-shift, about to go off duty.

Mike halted in his tracks. “What’s going on?”

Logan Strong, a C-shift member of the ladder truck company, produced a huge picture pasted on a three-by-four-foot poster board, a blowup of a newspaper photo. Mike squinted, trying to make out the grainy reproduction.

“The fair city of Paseo del Real—or at least the press thereof—has declared you a hero,” Logan announced, grinning broadly. “Congratulations.”

Oh, shoot! The picture was of Mike carrying Randy to the ambulance, the kid wearing his helmet. The headline read, Hero Rescues Child from Fiery Inferno.

“Ah, come on, guys. I didn’t do anything—”

“You got that damn straight,” Jay Tolliver said. “I could have been the hero if you hadn’t pushed your way inside before me. Think how many points I would have made with Kim if you’d let me go first.”

Mike lowered his duffle to the floor. “You don’t need any points with your new bride, Tolliver. She’s already nuts over you, though we’ve gotta question her judgment in that regard.”

Jay laughed, and so did the rest of the crew.

With a shake of her head that set her dangling earrings in motion, Emma Jean Witkowsky, the dispatcher, said, “I knew the minute I saw that picture in yesterday’s paper something good would happen. They’re setting up a trust fund for that sweet little boy so he can go to college.”

“We can always count on your psychic ability to tell us what’s going to happen—right after it happens,” Mike teased.

Lifting her chin, she set her jewelry in motion again. “It’s my Gypsy blood.”

Given her dark eyes and nearly black hair, it was entirely possible Emma Jean was a Gypsy, but Mike didn’t believe the psychic business for a minute. She was more often wrong than right, not that she’d admit it.

Crossing the room, Logan presented Mike with the photo. “I bet you made a deal with the photographer so you’d get the really big bucks at the bachelor auction this week.”

“Some of us hero-types don’t need any extra help. The ladies are crazy about me.”

“Yeah, and the feeling is mutual.”

Everyone in the room hooted and hollered, but Mike couldn’t deny that was true. He liked women, liked to see their eyes light up when he flirted with them—old ones, young ones, it didn’t matter. But he made it a point not to let any relationship go too far. The last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt a woman by leading her to expect more than he could give.

Ray Gainer, a fireplug of a man, arrived, duffle slung over his shoulder.

“Hey, you’re late,” Logan pointed out.

Gainer shrugged and gave everyone a sheepish grin. “Long ride back from Vegas.”

“Hot dog! That means Gainer’s buying the ice cream today,” someone shouted.

“No way! I lost my shirt this trip, and my wife’s gonna skin my hide if she finds out about it.”

The friendly bantering back and forth continued for a few more minutes, then the guys from B-shift headed home and Mike took the photo and his duffle into his room, stowing them both in his locker. Arnie Switzer, who slept in the room during B-shift, had left the place spotless as usual. Firefighters were good about that, neat and tidy, at least at the station house.

Firefighters also worked hours that were different from the rest of the world. Typically, they pulled three twenty-four-hour shifts a week with a day off in between, then they had four days off in a row. That meant a firefighter had plenty of time to moonlight on another job, or in Mike’s case, go scuba diving or hang out at the marina.

Closing the door on the locker, Mike gave some thought to the bachelor auction that was coming up. It was for a good cause, the burn unit at the hospital. Giving up a few hours of his free time wasn’t a hardship.

He smiled to himself. Maybe he ought to invite Kristin McCoy to the event and slip her a few extra bucks to bid on him.

Then again, she hadn’t exactly warmed to him. Given his luck, she’d use his money to run up the bid on Logan, a quiet, serious guy women couldn’t seem to resist. Mike didn’t want to waste his money promoting Logan’s love life.

KRISTIN KNELT in front of Randy, her heart nearly melting at the sad look on his face. His arms were wrapped tightly around a paper sack filled with clothing she’d dug up from the emergency supply—pants and shirts that were probably too big for his slender frame. He’d look like a lost waif, which is exactly what he was. The police hadn’t been able to trace the couple he’d been living with in the vacant house, the neighbors hadn’t had a clue who they were, and Randy still wasn’t talking.

The fire department had determined, however, that burning candles in the kitchen had started the fire. There hadn’t been any electricity in the house. Mike Gables had been right—whomever Randy had been living with were squatters. And they’d endangered a child. The worst kind of public enemies in Kristin’s view.

If she could take the boy home with her, she’d do it in a second. But that was against the rules. Besides, she couldn’t take in all the children she worked with no matter how much she might want to. There were simply too many.

“You’ll be staying here for a few days,” she tried to explain again. “Bud and Alice Gramercy are great foster parents. I know you’ll like living with them, and you’ll have lots of kids to play with.” The Gramercys operated a small group home for up to six kids at time, all of them loud and rambunctious as evidenced by the cacophony going on in the backyard.

“What about Suzie? Can she come too?”

“I’m afraid not, honey. The Gramercys already have two dogs. You can play with them.”

His lower lip jutted out about a mile. “Suzie’s my dog.”

“I know, but there isn’t enough room—”

“Where is she?”

“They’re keeping her at the pound. She’s fine, I’m sure.”

He was losing the battle to keep his chin from trembling. “Can I go see her? Please. I promised I’d come back for her.” A sob caught in his throat, and tears edged down his cheeks. “She’ll think I forgot!”

“Oh, Randy… “Unable to help herself, she pulled the child into her arms. “If you could just tell me if you have any relatives, who you were living with—”

“They didn’t want Suzie neither,” he said glumly, and Kristin could almost hear the unspoken words, They didn’t want me.

He rested his head on her shoulder, so sweet and needy it made Kristin want to bawl like a baby too. Who in the name of heaven would walk away from a child like this? Leave him alone in a vacant house with only a dog for company? If she could get her hands on—

Gritting her teeth, she forced her emotions aside and concentrated on her job, what needed to be done to protect Randy.

Surely somewhere she could find a foster family who would take both the boy and his pet. It was a crime to separate them. Boys and puppy-dog tails went together. And if someone didn’t claim Suzie within seven days, the pound would have to euthanize the dog. Kristin couldn’t bear the thought of telling Randy his dog had been put to sleep. It would break her heart as well as the boy’s.

Alice came out of the kitchen where she’d been fixing dinner for the mob of children. “Come on, Randy. Tell Ms. McCoy goodbye. It’s almost time for supper. I’ll show you where to put your things. You’re going to be sharing your bedroom with Shane and Toby. Won’t that be nice?”

Taking the boy by his shoulders, Alice gently pulled him away from Kristin.

His big, brown eyes locked on Kristin. “Can you go see Suzie? Tell her I didn’t forget her.”

Kristin nodded, though nowhere in her job description did it say she had to drop by a pound to visit a client’s dog, nor was there any time in her hectic schedule for that kind of an excursion. But maybe she’d go anyway. Maybe she could convince the animal shelter to hold off any final decision about the dog’s fate long enough for her to find a suitable family.

Then again, as firefighter Mike Gables had suggested, bureaucrats often made decisions based solely on rules they felt compelled to follow. Kristin could defend the system until she was blue in the face, but she acknowledged there were times when it simply didn’t work to the benefit of her young clients.

From the vehemence of Mike’s reaction, perhaps he had learned that lesson in a very personal way. She couldn’t help but wonder where and how.

WHEN THE PHONE rang, Kristin had been back in her office only long enough to note that the pile of case files on her desk had grown by a foot in her absence. The darn things multiplied faster than rabbits!

She picked up the phone. “McCoy.”

“Hey, girlfriend, what’re you doin’ Wednesday night?”

Kristin rolled her eyes. “Well, let me think, Addy. I’ve scheduled a quick flight to the Riviera. Thought I’d drop a few thousand dollars on the roulette tables then buzz back home in time to get to work the next morning. Of course, Las Vegas would be closer and cheaper, but you know me—a party girl at heart.”

“Which is why I called you. Your social life sucks big time.”

“I like my quiet life—”

“We’re all going out Wednesday night and there’s no way I’m going to accept a no from you unless, heaven forbid, there’s a death in your family.”

“Addy, I don’t do blind dates.” She rarely dated at all, and then only reluctantly, when one of her brothers absolutely forced a buddy on her and she couldn’t refuse.

“Who said anything about a date? It’s us girls—Connie, Janice, Holly Mae, you and me. We’re gonna have us a high ol’ time out on the town.”

They were her friends, too, all of them employed by the hospital in one capacity or another. Still, Kristin stalled. “Well…”

“Trust me, girlfriend. You need a break and so do we. It’s not like being a nurse is all that much more fun than going around wiping the noses of whiny little kids who’d just as soon kick you in the—”

“Addy!” Kristin laughed. If there was a softer touch in the world than Addy, Kristin had never met her. “So where are we going?”

“Uh, we’ll figure that out once we get started. For now, let’s plan to meet at the hospital about seven. We’ll go from there.”

Kristin didn’t like the hesitation she’d heard in her friend’s voice, but before she could ask for clarification, Addy said, “Gotta go, hon. There’s a big hunky UPS driver at my door. See you Wednesday.”

Left holding a silent phone, Kristin decided a night out on the town with her friends was exactly what she needed. She’d been spending far too much time in the past day or so thinking about a studly firefighter with a wicked smile and a dangerous reputation.

THEY’D tricked her!

Kristin had been thinking drinks and dinner with Addy and her friends, maybe a movie. What she got was a bachelor auction to benefit the hospital’s burn unit and an auditorium filled with giggling, out-of-control women. The aisles were crowded, the seats filling up quickly.

“There is no way I’m going to bid on anyone,” Kristin insisted.

“You don’t have to,” Addy assured her. “The looking is almost as much fun as the buying. It’s like window-shopping.”

Kristin wasn’t in the market for a bachelor of any size or shape. Forget that the money went for a good cause. She didn’t even want to look. Thinking about the absence of a special man in her life was a depressing exercise and one to be avoided.

“Look, Addy, you and the others can go ahead without me. We’ll do something together next—”

“Here we go.” Addy caught Kristin’s hand and forcefully dragged her into a row with several vacant seats. Connie was right behind her, pushing, and she was followed by the rest of Addy’s cohorts from the hospital.

Not only had they tricked Kristin, now they’d trapped her!

“You just let us know if you see anything interesting,” Connie said, settling beside Kristin.

The only thing in the room of interest to Kristin was the red Exit sign. And she couldn’t get to it without trampling an entire row of excited women.

As Kristin scrunched down in her chair in the faint hope none of her colleagues from work would see her, Connie passed Addy a big handful of money. With a smug smile, Addy tucked the wad of bills into her purse.

Kristin had the distinct impression her friends were up to some stunt she wasn’t going to like.

MIKE NOTICED her the moment he paraded out onto the stage with the other bachelors. Odd, in a sea of two hundred beautiful women, how he’d zeroed in on Kristin. Maybe it was because she was the only woman in the room who wasn’t screaming and waving. Or maybe it had to do with dynamite chemistry—on his side, at least. And he couldn’t help but wonder who she’d be bidding on.

Fire Chief Harlan Gray picked up the microphone to act as MC and auctioneer. “Good evening, ladies. I’d like to welcome you all to—”

“We don’t want any speeches, Chief,” someone shouted. “We’ve got money burning holes in our purses. Let’s have at it.”

The women in the audience whooped their approval. Instinctively, every bachelor on stage including the chief, who was a widower, stepped back a pace. These were some scary ladies. Nobody wanted to be in their way if they stampeded.

The chief sorted out the bachelors, asking Les Adams from Station Two to take center stage first. In all, about twenty bachelors were to be auctioned off, most of them firefighters, with a couple of doctors and a male nurse thrown into the mix. The bidding on Les started at a hundred dollars and made it to a hundred and fifty before running out of steam. Mike noticed Kristin wasn’t much interested in the proceedings.

An hour later, amid whistles and catcalls, Mike finally took his place out front. He grinned at the ladies and blew them a kiss, which brought another round of cheers. He’d like to do well at the auction, bring in the big bucks. In addition to an ego stroke, there was a friendly rivalry between the fire stations in town. The one that garnered the least money for the burn unit had to deliver ice cream to all the other stations.

Somebody started the bidding at two hundred. Before he could spot the first bidder, the price had gone up to two-fifty and he realized Addy Goodfellow had finally jumped into the fray with her first bid of the evening. Not Kristin, he thought with a twinge of regret. She looked like she’d rather be somewhere else.

Two-seventy-five quickly became three-fifty, and it looked like Mike was going to grab top honors for the night. Suddenly, he remembered that weeks ago Emma Jean had predicted he’d get the highest bid this year—and never be eligible for a bachelor auction again.

When Addy went to five hundred dollars, Mike began to sweat. He thought she understood he wasn’t a commitment kind of guy. She shouldn’t be spending—

“Five hundred once,” Chief Gray called. “Five hundred twice. Sold to the lady in the red blouse!”

The audience cheered at the top bid for the evening.

Mike mentally groaned. He’d show Addy a good time on their date, but he’d make it clear that as nice as she might be, and as much fun as she was, they had no future together.

The final bachelor went for two-fifty and the chief was about to call it a night when Councilwoman Evie Anderson stood up in the audience. An attractive woman in her sixties, she’d had her eye on the chief for some years, showing up at the fire station with home-baked goods for him and “his boys” and even baking him a birthday cake. Problem was, the councilwoman couldn’t cook worth a darn. From the taste of her strawberry syrup alone, which she’d brought to the pancake breakfast this past spring, Mike was convinced the woman was determined to poison every member of the fire department along with all their family members.

“We’re not done yet, Harlan,” Evie said.

“Yes, we are,” the chief insisted. “Steve was the last—”

“You’re single, Chief Gray. And I bid one thousand dollars.”

There was a moment of silence, as though everyone was intrigued by the blush that rushed up the chief’s throat and bloomed on his cheeks, virtually turning the roots of his gray hair pink. Then the audience cheered louder than they had all evening.

The chief banged his gavel. “Sold,” he muttered, and the whole crowd was on their feet practically bringing the auditorium down with their enthusiastic applause. Only two people didn’t look happy about the evening—Chief Gray and Kristin McCoy.

Despite the fact that he didn’t believe in Emma Jean’s psychic ability, Mike released a small sigh of relief. He hadn’t won the top-dollars honor after all. Logically, then, his bachelor status for next year’s event was still intact.

KRISTIN wanted to escape.

But Addy and Connie had her boxed in, trapped while Mike made his way through the mob toward where she was standing. Where Addy was standing, she corrected herself. She was the one who’d won the date with Mike, at no small expense.

Lord, he was a big man, she realized. At well over six feet, he towered over most of the women in the room, giving each of them a quick smile as he edged past them. They ate it up, all but swooning at his feet. Kristin knew better. A sweet-talking man with a sexy grin meant nothing but trouble in her experience.

When he reached the clutch of waiting women, Mike bent over and brushed a familiar kiss to Addy’s cheek.

“You must have won the lotto,” he said to her. “If you’d just called me up, I’d have taken you out for a lot less than five hundred bucks.”

She laughed a delighted sound. “Sugar, you and I had our fun, and I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. But I didn’t bid on you for myself. We all chipped in, pooled our money—” her gesture included all the nurses standing nearby “—for Kristin. She’s going to be your date.”

Kristin’s jaw dropped. If the gods had opened up the floor beneath her feet, she would have gladly slipped out of sight. Mike Gables was the last man on earth she wanted to date. He was too charming, too sexy—too damn tempting.

“No,” she murmured, her throat aching, barely able to find her voice.

His gaze swung in her direction, dark eyes filled with amusement and a challenge. “You didn’t know about this?”

“Not a chance.”

“Interesting.” His lips quirked into one of his patented smiles. “Surprises can be fun.”

His gaze was so intense, so totally focused on her, Kristin felt the rest of the room and everyone in it melt away. For all she knew, Addy, Connie and the others had abandoned her. She and this smiling, potently masculine man were the only two people left in the auditorium. An odd buzzing started in her head, blocking out any other sound. She couldn’t have looked away from Mike Gables if her life had depended upon it. If not her life, certainly her good sense was at serious risk.

“I’m not really into surprises,” she said.

“Then this will be a first for both of us. I’ve never had anyone bid five hundred dollars just to have a date with me.”

“I didn’t bid on you at all.”

“I know.” His slow perusal swept over her with obvious masculine interest. “That’s what’s going to make our date so interesting.”

It took all of her willpower to draw herself up to her full five-foot-five inches to challenge him right back. “Why don’t we pretend we had our date, we both had a great time, no one will be the wiser and the burn center will still be five hundred dollars richer.”

“That wouldn’t be honorable. I gave my word I’d go out with whoever bid the most for me—or her surrogate in this case. Your friends would be disappointed in us both if we didn’t go through with it after all the trouble they went to.”

“I’ll explain to them it just wasn’t possible—”

“Not good enough. How ’bout Friday night? There’s a great place in Pismo, good food, a small dance floor. We could—”

“No,” she gasped. “I’m busy that night.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. Very busy.” Friday nights she collapsed after a hard workweek, rarely able to stay awake late enough to watch a movie on TV. And that was typical for her social schedule every night of the week.

He gave her a skeptical look, though his intense scrutiny didn’t let up an iota even as he tipped his head to the side, shifting those wavy curls off his forehead slightly. “Do you like scuba diving?”

Without thought, she nodded. Too late to take it back, she stammered, “I, well—”

“Great. I’ll pick you up Sunday morning at—”

“I’m perfectly capable of driving myself,” she said hastily. “But I have no intention of—”

“You know the marina at Morro Bay?”

“Yes, but—”

“Perfect. Meet me there at ten. My boat’s moored in row 57A—the Lady Be Good. I’ll bring a lunch and I’ve got gear for you if you need it.” He bent down, brushed the same familiar kiss to her cheek as he had with Addy, and gave Kristin another wicked grin. “We’ll have a great time.”

In stunned silence, Kristin stood in the middle of the aisle as Mike walked away. She wasn’t sure which was more irritating—his arrogant assumption that she’d go out with him, despite her refusal, or the fact that the quick brush of his lips had been a flashpoint of reawakened desire. Heated messages radiated through every nerve ending from that simple contact, speaking of possibilities and forbidden cravings. Low in her body she felt an unwelcome response, an ache of wanting she’d long denied herself.

Damn, if Mike Gables was that potent with only a peck on the cheek, how much more damage could he do to a woman’s willpower if he set his mind to it?

Turning, she spied her friends loitering near the exit, looking as smug as truants who’d made a clean escape from the school principal. She stalked toward them.

“What on earth possessed the four of you to—”

“It was for a good cause,” Holly Mae said, grinning like a fool.

“You spent too much money, for one thing. For another, I have no interest in—”

“You needed a date,” Addy said.

Not someone like Mike Gables, she thought wildly. “I could use a new car, too. Why didn’t you buy me one of those?”

Connie hooked her arm through Kristin’s. “We’ll work on that for next year.”

“But, you work hard for your money. You shouldn’t be spending it on me.” She whirled back to Holly Mae. “You’re single. You can go out with Mike. I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful—”

“Hon, just hush up and enjoy, have fun,” Addy ordered. “This is our way of thanking you.”

“Thanking me?”

“There isn’t another social worker in the county who cares about kids as much as you do. We figured it was high time you got a reward for all your hard work.”

County employees got a certificate of appreciation for extra effort. Or if they were lucky, a two-percent cost of living increase in their salary.

Kristin groaned.

They didn’t get a date with a studly firefighter who could trip-hammer a woman’s heart with a single sexy smile and an all-too-brief kiss on the cheek.

Chapter Three

Early Sunday morning, Kristin stood back and examined herself in her full-length bedroom mirror.

The goggles made her look like an alien from outer space and the mouthpiece puffed out her cheeks like a chipmunk. The wet suit was as tight as a full-body girdle and revealed every flaw in her figure, of which she had plenty. The weight belt added inches to her waist. Turning sideways, she noted the air tank made her look as though she were suffering from early-onset dowager’s hump. The flippers were a nice touch, too, giving her a waddle when she walked.

Perfect! There was no way a man could be attracted to a female dressed in this outfit. When her brothers had given her scuba gear several years ago and forced her to join them on their expeditions, she’d had no idea how useful the experience would be. With this equipment she was as good as wearing armor against any unwanted advances from Mike Gables.

Not that he’d be interested anyway, she told herself. Addy and her friends had bought and paid for this date. If it hadn’t been for the bachelor auction, Mike would never have asked her out. In fact, their paths probably wouldn’t have even crossed again.

Which would have been much better, she thought grimly.

Temporarily shedding her scuba gear in favor of loose-fitting jeans, a tank top and a windbreaker, she grabbed a bottle of sunscreen and scooped up her equipment, loading it all in her VW convertible. A few hours in the sun would bring out her freckles—the bane of all redheads—and then she’d hold even less appeal for a man like Mike. Although the way he appeared to date anything that wore a skirt, he wasn’t too discriminating.

All the more reason she needed to keep her distance.

As she drove away from her apartment, the early-morning sun cast a golden light on the buildings of downtown Paseo del Real, and traffic was light on the main boulevard. The big gas station on the corner of Paseo Blvd. and Broad Street had only one customer as she cruised past it and turned onto the highway heading toward Morro Bay.

The green hillsides of the coastal range had already given way to the golden brown of summer, spring wildflowers fading to white under the June sun. Cool, fresh-smelling air caught a flyaway strand of Kristin’s hair, whipping it across her face, and she brushed it back. A tiny thrill of anticipation rippled through her midsection, buoying her spirits in spite of herself.

Only the thought of a day of scuba diving had her on edge, she assured herself. Not Mike Gables. She’d make it a point to stay well out of his grasp.

Not that she’d be able to avoid his provocative smile the whole day. But underwater she’d be safe enough. After all, he’d be wearing a face mask too.

HE HADN’T been sure she’d come.

Grinning like some fool who’d just asked his first girl to the prom and gotten a yes, Mike leaped over the side of Lady Be Good and onto the dock. He tried for cool and casual, but his heart was banging against his ribs as if an old-time boxer had taken up residence inside his chest.

She had great legs, despite the fact she was trying to disguise them in baggy jeans, and hips perfect for nesting against a man’s pelvis. But it was her flyaway hair, all bouncy curls fiery red in the sunlight, that could drive a man to distraction. He wanted to comb his fingers through those curls and feel the strands part for him. Which probably wasn’t a smart thought at all.

“You found it,” he said when he reached her.

“The marina’s not that hard to find.”

He took the air tank she was carrying and slung it over his shoulder. She looked as nervous as an arsonist who couldn’t find a match. “I gather you’ve done some scuba diving before.”

“With my brothers. They jointly own a boat that’s moored at the other end of the marina.”

“Ah, these brothers of yours—are they big guys?”

A neat little frown furrowed her forehead. “Big enough, I guess.”

“And are they real protective of their little sister?”

The tiniest smile threatened to curl her lips. “A little.”

“Guess that means I’m gonna have to be on my best behavior, huh?”

“Absolutely.” She nodded, but the threat of a smile became a reality, and her whole face brightened, her green eyes dancing with mirth. “I wouldn’t want to be responsible for their behavior if they thought a man was trying to take advantage of me.”

“I understand. Perfectly.” With his free hand, he took her duffle, which he assumed was filled with the rest of her scuba gear. “Why don’t you let me show you around my boat? I can even point out useful items that could be used as a weapon if I get fresh with you.”

Still smiling, she fell into step beside him. “I doubt that will be necessary. I’ve taken a couple of self-defense classes.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He dropped her gear onto the deck of the boat, then offered her his hand to help her onboard. For a scant instant, she hesitated before placing her hand in his.

Her skin was as soft as he’d imagined, her fingers slender and delicate. For a moment he was tempted to raise her hand to his lips and kiss her palm, then thought better of it. She was skittish enough. No sense rushing her.

But like most of the women he dated, he knew sometime soon—very soon, if he had his way—he’d have her in his bed. If she was willing, and if he could find a way to let her know he wasn’t a commitment kind of guy.

THE TWENTY-FOUR-FOOT cabin cruiser sped over the calm water outside the harbor, cutting a foamy-green wake. Belowdecks, where Kristin had stowed her gear, she’d found a small galley and a stateroom in the bow that would sleep two if they didn’t mind being cozy and claustrophobia wasn’t a problem.

On the bridge, Mike was at the wheel, one hip propped on the captain’s chair, looking for all the world as if he were king of the sea. He was dressed to impress in cut-off shorts and a faded T-shirt, and Kristin couldn’t help but notice his hair-roughened legs, the flex of his calf muscles and rock-hard thighs. He was certainly making an impression on her, one she didn’t want to admit to.

“You want to drive a while?” he asked over his shoulder.

“No, you’re doing fine, Captain.” Besides, in spite of herself, Kristin was enjoying the view. There was something very sexy about a man who didn’t wear socks with his deck shoes.

“I thought we’d go out around the point. There’s an old wreck there that’s interesting to explore.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“When I’ve got more time, I like to go out to the Channel Islands, but that’s a little far for a one-day trip.”

Kristin hopped up on the passenger’s chair and made herself comfortable. “Have you had your boat long?”

“A couple of years. I met a guy who had just bought a thirty-five-footer and needed to get rid of this one. I got a good deal on it. Amazing how many friends you acquire when you’ve got a boat.”

Kristin smiled at that. “Fair-weather friends, according to my brothers.”

“You’ve got that straight.” He chuckled. “Your family from around here?”

“Born and bred. My dad was in construction here during the boom days of the eighties and nineties when they couldn’t build houses fast enough to keep pace with the demand. He just dabbles at it now, and my brothers have taken over the business.”

“Lucky them.”

“They think so.” The boat caught the top of a swell and rocked back and forth. Kristin steadied herself on the bulkhead. “How ’bout your family?”

He glanced in her direction. “The fire department is my family.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“Speaking of families,” he said, ignoring her unspoken question, “did you ever find where that kid—Randy—belonged?”

“No. I had to put him in a group foster home. It’s a temporary placement until I can find a more satisfactory arrangement.” One that would take a dog.

“Great. That means he’ll get jerked around one more time.”

Kristin winced at Mike’s sharp tone. “Can’t be helped. We’re always short of qualified foster families, and unless Randy lets us know he’s got a grandmother or aunt or some other relative who’d be responsible for him, I’m afraid there isn’t much I can do.”

Mike didn’t seem pleased with her explanation. People outside the department rarely understood how difficult it was to find good homes for children or how tightly her hands were tied by the rules. She was frequently as frustrated by her job as the critics were of the system, but she and her colleagues were often all the kids had standing between them and being on the streets. Even children as young as Randy.

Off Point Buchon, Mike slowed the boat near the site of the old wreck. He really wished Kristin had some other job—waitress, nurse, teacher, it wouldn’t matter. But he had a lot of bitter memories of social workers who hadn’t given a damn about him or any other kid. Painting her with the same brush might not be fair, but it was hard not to let his past influence his feelings.

Not that any of his social workers had come close to looking like a Technicolor fantasy with vibrant red hair, deep green eyes and a complexion kissed by tiny freckles.

He idled the engine and the boat settled, bobbing in the swells.

“Can you handle the anchor?” he asked.

“Aye-aye, Captain.” She gave him a quick smile as she hopped off her chair and headed for the stern.

“It’s not very deep here,” he called after her. “Maybe forty feet.”

She waved to him. “I got it.”

With admirable efficiency, she released the catch on the anchor rope and let it slide into the sea. Apparently she’d been on boats enough to know how to handle herself. Mike hoped she was equally at ease under the water. Diving with an inexperienced partner was always a little risky.

Killing the engine, he joined her at the stern of the boat. “You want to eat something now or dive first?”

“Let’s dive first. That’s why we’re here.”

Actually, there were a bunch of reasons besides doing a little diving—the winning bid at the bachelor auction only one of them. The fact that she was a social worker didn’t change his primal reaction to her. But if he had been looking for a long-term relationship with a woman—which he wasn’t—he knew she wouldn’t be the one. Too much of his own personal history to overcome.

While Mike hoisted the flag to warn other boats that scuba divers were in the water, Kristin went below-deck to put on her gear. She’d be glad to cool off underwater. Somehow being in close proximity to Mike had heated both her blood and her imagination.

When she came back on deck minutes later, he was set to go. It struck her as totally sexist a man could look so damn good in a wet suit when she felt like she’d been stuffed into hers with a crowbar. Not that she wanted to look sexy for Mike, she reminded herself.

He gave her a swift appraisal that took in every bulge from the top of her head to her bare toes.

“Very nice,” he murmured.

Her ego cheered hooray! while her pride demanded she not let him see how pleased she was with his approval. He certainly knew what a woman wanted to hear, even if it was a lie. “Let’s go take a look, huh?”

“You got it.”

It figured he’d go into the water the macho way. Adjusting his face mask, he did a back flip over the side of the boat.

Kristin was more cautious. Using the swimming ladder he’d lowered, she eased into the water. The cold was a shock initially, but then her body heat warmed the water that was caught between her skin and the wet suit.

She swam to Mike’s side. He gestured for her to follow him down.

It was oddly intimate beneath the surface, just the two of them gliding side by side downward, their only companions an occasional sea perch and a puffer who objected to their visit. Except for the sound of her own breathing apparatus and the rush of water past her, the silence was intense.

Mike moved as gracefully through the water as if he’d been born to the sea, his flippers barely moving as though he was making sure not to get too far ahead of her. He turned his head and gave her a thumbs-up. She returned the signal.

They reached the wreck and hovered off its bow for a moment. Kristin could make out the wheelhouse of what used to be a freighter. She should have asked when it had—

She drew a quick breath as though the one before that hadn’t filled her lungs. The next one didn’t do the job either. Fighting a sense of panic, she checked the meter for her oxygen tanks.

Empty! Her damn tanks were empty! How could that be?

She whirled, propelling herself upward. Toward the surface. Toward air!

Something snared her ankle. She kicked and flailed against whatever had captured her. Her lungs were burning, ready to burst. She had to get to the surface, but she was being dragged down—

Eye-to-eye with her, Mike banged on her mask to get her attention. He took his mouthpiece from his mouth and offered it to her. He looked so damn calm, so under control as he tugged her mouthpiece away and replaced it with his.

Buddy breathing! Of course, she’d practiced it once in a swimming pool with her brother, but she’d never had to actually do it in a crisis.

She drew in a welcome breath of air. Oh, God…Nothing had ever tasted so good. So sweet.

With patience worthy of a saint, he tapped her hand asking for the mouthpiece back. She sucked in another deep breath before releasing her grip.

Behind his mask, she saw him wink at her as he inhaled. Then he signaled they’d go up together and handed her the mouthpiece again.

He controlled their ascent, keeping her calm, even pointing out a school of passing herring as if this were a walk in the park. She clung to his arm and to the mouthpiece even when he was getting a much-needed shot of oxygen for himself. She was like an octopus wrapped around him. A scared octopus!

They broke the surface together.

Kristin ripped off her mask and dragged in all the air her lungs could handle, one breath after another.

He perched his mask on the top of his head. “Easy, honey. You don’t want to hyperventilate.”

“Oh, God. I couldn’t breathe. I was so scared!”

Treading water, he pulled her into his arms. He was all muscle and strength, as gentle with her as he would be with a baby. And that’s what she’d been. A baby!

“I’m so sorry. I panicked. I shouldn’t have—I know better—”

“It’s okay. You’re all right now. Just relax.”

“Easy for you to say.” She tried for a laugh, but it came out little more than a choked sob. Her whole body was trembling, inside and out. “Have you always been a hero, or is that something they teach you in firefighter school?”

With an easy kick of his feet, he propelled them toward the boat. “Let’s see, when I was about ten I rescued a neighbor’s dog who got her head stuck in a fence. Cost me about ten stitches.” He held up the back of his hand to show her the scar—ragged teeth marks. “She didn’t understand I was trying to help her.”

She shuddered at the injury he’d suffered trying to be a white hat. “I promise not to bite.”

A wry grin lifted one side of his mouth and his dark eyes gleamed with a wicked glint. “I wouldn’t object to a little nibble when you’re feeling up to it.”

She sputtered, took in a mouthful of salty water and came up coughing. The man was an incorrigible flirt. But the real problem was her own reaction, the temptation to take him up on his suggestion.

“Right now my preference would be to get my feet on solid ground as quickly as possible.” And to get away from Mike Gables as fast as those same feet would take her.

They reached the boat, and he followed her up the ladder. Still shaking, she stood on the deck dripping water onto the teak flooring, counting every breath she took as a blessing.

“Let’s get your tank off, and I’ll take a look at it.”

“I checked it this morning.” Though obviously not carefully enough. “I’m sure I had enough air. My brother Colby makes sure the tanks are full after we dive.”

Mike helped her shrug out of the tanks. “How long ago was your last dive?”

“Last summer, I guess.” She dropped her weight belt to the deck.

“Things can happen. Valves get stuck. I should have checked your tanks before I let you go down.”

“It’s not your fault.” Her hands were shaking so badly she couldn’t make the zipper on her wet suit work. “I should be responsible for my own gear.”

“Here, let me.”

Before she could object, he’d set the air tanks aside and turned her around to face him. The back of his hand brushed against her throat as he reached for the tab, and he slipped his other hand inside her suit so the zipper wouldn’t pinch her. His knuckles grazed her skin as he lowered the zipper. An intimate touch. Flesh to flesh. The hum of the zipper like the rushing of blood through her veins.

She swallowed hard. His lips were only inches from hers. Kissable lips that were slightly full but not so thick as to give one of those messy, juicy kisses she didn’t like. Not that she’d been kissed at all lately. And she shouldn’t be thinking about that.

His eyelashes were dark semi-circles, unfairly long for a man. His cheeks smooth-shaven. Caressable. His jaw strong. And his lips…

The zipper reached the middle of her chest, the backs of his fingers perilously close to her breasts. He stopped and cleared his throat.

“You do, uh, have a swimsuit on, don’t you?” His deep voice came out breathy as though he’d run out of oxygen too.

Her response caught in her throat. “Yes.”

“Good.”

The zipper resumed its slow descent, the pressure of the skintight wet suit easing on her breasts, releasing them as the links separated. The sensation was as erotic as if he were undressing her right down to her skin. Her breathing turned shallow, her mouth dried and her heartbeat accelerated. She was as unable now to draw a decent breath as she had been only minutes ago forty feet under the water.

This was not good, she told herself. He’d just rescued her from drowning, her panic-driven adrenaline was still racing through her veins, and she was in a susceptible mood. Vulnerable.

She clutched his wrist. “I can get the rest.”

He glanced up and their eyes met. The heated look she saw sent waves of desire burrowing into her mid-section. The sensual movement of the boat beneath her feet, the gentle rocking, added something elemental to their contact. Something compelling.

Something she didn’t dare explore.

“I think—” She moistened her lips. “I think we’d better go back to the marina.”

He studied her a moment, his gaze so intense she felt as though he were reading her thoughts. “You sure? I’ve got a spare tank you could—”

“No. I’ve had enough excitement for today.” More than enough, and she wasn’t thinking only of her scuba-diving adventure. “I’ll just go belowdecks and change.”

She slipped past him, down the steps into the cabin. Only then did she draw an easy breath. Next time Addy invited her out on the town with the girls, she’d disconnect her phone and hide under her bed.

AT THE MARINA, Kristin made a hasty escape and Mike lingered on the boat until sunset. It had taken him hours to get past a persistent state of arousal. He couldn’t remember any other woman affecting him quite as powerfully as she had. Hell, when she’d gotten into trouble underwater, he’d been almost as panicky as Kristin. He’d sweated bullets getting her to the surface safely.

And then when he’d unzipped her wet suit—

Ah, hell! His own wet suit had become a torture device. Thank God she hadn’t noticed the telltale bulge in his crotch. She had the smoothest skin, the loveliest breasts….

He snapped the lock closed on the cabin door. It was time to get home, where he’d probably have to spend the whole damn night taking cold showers.

He carried his gear to his pickup, dropped it in the back and made the trip to Paseo del Real in record time, pulling into his carport at the rear of the apartment complex where he lived.

Mostly singles and young couples—thirty-somethings like himself—lived in the adults-only, two-story garden units, enjoying a communal swimming pool in the center courtyard and tiny patios off each apartment that gave them some privacy for barbecuing and entertaining. Sometimes tenants organized a potluck in the community room, but mostly the guys watched the girls—and vice versa—around the pool. The resulting romantic relationships revolved so fast, they were as hard to keep track of as the subplots in a Tom Clancy novel.

He entered the courtyard through the back. As he approached his unit, his footsteps faltered. In the muted lights that edged the flower beds he could see that someone was sitting on his front steps. A small someone.

“Randy?” he questioned, frowning. What the hell was the kid doing here?

The boy jumped to his feet. His hair was mussed, his eyes big and sad, and he looked like he’d just lost his best friend. Mike felt a punch to his gut.

“They’re gonna…k-kill Suzie,” Randy stammered.

Mike dropped his gear to the sidewalk, kneeling in front of the boy. “Who told you that, son?”

“Shane. He’s a big kid and knows s-stuff like that. He says the p-pound is gonna put a big rope around her neck and p-pull—” Randy wiped his forearm across his face. “You gotta stop ’em, mister. You promised—”

Closing his eyes, Mike took a deep breath. It didn’t matter that the animal shelter put animals down more humanely than with a noose. This was Randy’s dog they were going to kill. Mike had promised the mutt would be okay, and he sure as hell hadn’t gone to the trouble of rescuing Suzie just to have some bureaucrat put her to sleep—which they’d probably do if no one bailed her out of the pound soon.

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