And maybe, against all his fathers warnings, there would be a beautiful damsel who would thank him for his good deed by loving him forever.
1
THE ALARM SOUNDED at precisely 3:17 p.m. Dylan Quinn looked up from polishing the chrome fittings on Engine 22. He couldnt count the times hed spit-shined the engine only to have the alarm sound. Most of the men of Ladder Company 14 and Engine Company 22 were upstairs relaxing after a long lunch but as they started to come down, Dylan tossed the polishing cloth aside and moved toward the alcove that held his boots, jacket and helmet.
A voice blared over the speaker system, the dispatcher repeating the address of the fire three times. The moment Dylan heard the address, he paused. Hell, it was just a few blocks from the station! As the others pulled on their gear, Dylan stepped out the wide garage doors and looked down Boylston Street.
He couldnt see any smoke. Hopefully, theyd arrive to find a contained fire that wasnt blazing out of control. The buildings in the older areas of Boston were built one right next to the other, and though firewalls prevented the spread of a blaze, the cramped spaces made it harder to get to a fire and then fight it.
The horn of the fire engine blared and Dylan slowly turned and gave Ken Carmichael, the driver, a wave. The truck pulled out of the station and as it passed, Dylan hopped on the rear running board and held on as they swung out onto the street. His heart started to beat a little quicker and his senses sharpened, as they did every time the company headed out to a fire.
As they wove through traffic on Boylston Street, he thought back to the moment hed decided to become a firefighter. When he was a kid, hed wanted to be a highwayman or a knight of the Round Table. But when he graduated from high school, neither one of those jobs were available. He wasnt interested in college. His older brother, Conor, had just started at the police academy, so Dylan had decided on the fire academy, a place that felt right the moment he walked in the door.
Unlike the days of his reckless youth when school barely mattered, Dylan had worked hard to be the top recruit in his classthe fastest, the strongest, the smartest, the bravest. The Boston Fire Department had a long and respected tradition, founded over three hundred years before as the nations first paid municipal fire department. And now, Dylan Quinn, who had had the most rootless upbringing of all, was a part of that history. As a firefighter, he was known to be cautious yet fearless, aggressive yet compassionate, the kind of man trusted by all those who worked with him.
Only two other firefighters in the history of the department had made lieutenant faster than him and he was on track to make captain in a few more years, once he finished his degree at night school. But it wasnt about the glory or the excitement or even the beautiful women who seemed to flock around firefighters. It had always been about the opportunity to save someones life, to snatch a complete stranger from the jaws of death and give them another chance. If that made him a hero, then Dylan wasnt sure why. It was just one of the perks of the job.
The engine slowly drew to a stop in the middle of traffic and Dylan grabbed his ax and hopped off. He double-checked the address, then noticed a wisp of pale gray smoke coming from the open door of a shop. A moment later, a slender woman with a soot-smudged face hurried out the front door.
Thank God, youre here, she cried. Hurry.
She ran back inside and Dylan took off after her. Lady! Stop! The last thing he needed was a civilian deliberately putting herself in harms way. Although at first glance the fire didnt look dangerous, hed learned to be wary of first impressions. The interior of the shop was filled with a hazy smoke, not much thicker than the cigarette smoke that hung over his fathers pub after a busy Saturday night, but he knew a flare or an explosion could be just a second away. The acrid smell made his eyes sting and Dylan recognized the odor of burning rubber.
He found her behind a long counter, frantically beating at a small fire with a charred dish towel. Grabbing her arm, he pulled her back against him. Lady, you have to leave. Let us take care of this before you get hurt.
No! she cried, trying to wriggle out of his arms. We have to put it out before it does any damage.
Dylan glanced over his shoulder to see two members of his team enter, one of them carrying a fire extinguisher. It looks like its contained in this machine. Crack it open and look for the source, he ordered. Then he pulled the woman along beside him toward the door.
Crack it open? The woman dug in her heels, yanking them both to a stop.
Even beneath the light coating of soot, Dylan could see she was beautiful. She had hair the color of rich mahogany and it tumbled in soft waves around her shoulders. Her profile was perfect, every feature balanced from her green eyes to her straight nose to the sensuous shape of her wide mouth. He had to shake himself out of a careful study of her lips before he remembered the job at hand.
Lady, if you dont leave right now, Im going to have to carry you out, Dylan warned. He let his gaze rake her body, from the clinging sweater to the almost-too-short leather mini to the funky boots. And considering the length of that skirt, you dont want me tossing you over my shoulder.
She seemed insulted by both his take-charge attitude and his comment on her wardrobe. Dylan studied her from beneath the brim of his helmet. Her eyes were bright with indignation and her breath came in quick gasps, making her breasts rise and fall in a tantalizing rhythm.
This is my shop, she snapped. And Im not going to let you chop it apart with your axes!
With a soft curse, Dylan did what hed done hundreds of times before, both in practice and in reality. He bent down, grabbed her around the legs, then hoisted her over his shoulder. Ill be back in a second, he called to his crew.
She kicked and screamed but Dylan barely noticed. Instead, his attention was diverted by the shapely backside nestled against his ear. He probably could have spent a little more time convincing her to leave the shop, but her stubborn attitude indicated that it would probably be a long fight. Besides, she was just a slip of a girl. Hed once carried a three-hundred-pound man down three flights. She weighed maybe one-twenty, tops.
When Dylan got her outside, he gently set her down next to one of the trucks, then tugged at the hem of her miniskirt to restore her dignity. She slapped at his hand as if hed deliberately tried to molest her. His temper flared. Stay here, he ordered through clenched teeth.
No! she said, making a move toward the door.
She slipped past him and Dylan raced after her, catching up a few steps inside the door of the shop. He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back against him, her backside nestling into his lap in a way that made him forget all about the dangers of fire and focus on the dangers of a soft, feminine body.
They both watched as Artie Winton hooked his ax behind the smoking machine and yanked it onto the floor. Then he dragged it into the middle of the shop, raised the ax and brought it down. A few moments later, Jeff Reilly covered the mess of twisted stainless steel with a coating of foam from the extinguisher.
This is the source, Jeff called. It looks like thats all the farther it got.
What was it? Dylan asked.
They both watched as Artie Winton hooked his ax behind the smoking machine and yanked it onto the floor. Then he dragged it into the middle of the shop, raised the ax and brought it down. A few moments later, Jeff Reilly covered the mess of twisted stainless steel with a coating of foam from the extinguisher.
This is the source, Jeff called. It looks like thats all the farther it got.
What was it? Dylan asked.
Reilly squatted down to take a better look. One of those frozen yogurt machines?
Nah, Winton said. Its one of those fancy coffee-makers.
Its an Espresso Master 8000 Deluxe.
Dylan glanced down to see the woman staring at the mess of stainless steel. A tear trickled down her cheek and she gnawed on her lower lip. Dylan cursed softly. If there was one thing he hated about fighting fires, it was the tears. Though he had given bad news to victims before, hed never really known what to do about the tears. And to his ears, his words of sympathy always sounded so hollow and forced.
He cleared his throat. I want you two to check around, he ordered as he patted the womans shoulder. Make sure we dont have any electrical shorts or hot spots in the walls. We dont know what kind of wiring theyve got in here. Look for a breaker panel and see if its flipped.
He pulled off his gloves and took the womans hand in his, then gently pulled her toward the door. He should have been thinking about what to say, but instead he was fascinated by how delicate her fingers felt in his hand. Theres nothing you can do in here, he said softly. Well check everything out and if its safe, you can go back in after the smoke clears.
When they got outside, he led her toward the back of the truck and gently pushed her down until she sat on the wide back bumper. A paramedic came rushing up but Dylan waved him off. Her tears came more freely now and Dylan felt his heart twist. He fought the impulse to gather her in his arms. She really didnt have much to cry about. All shed lost was a coffeemaker.
Its all right, he said. I know you were scared, but youre fine. And you barely lost a thing.
She snapped her head up and leveled an angry glare at him. That machine was worth fifteen thousand dollars! Thats the best machine on the market. It makes four shots of espresso in fifteen seconds. And you and your ax-wielding Huns chopped it to bits.
Stunned by the intensity of her outburst, Dylan took a step back as if scorched by her words. She owed him at least a small bit of gratitude! Listen, lady, I
My names not lady! she cried.
Well, whatever your name is, you should be happy, he said, unable to keep the anger from edging his voice. No, you should be thrilled. Today was a good day. No one died. Dylan sighed, then lightened his tone. You didnt get hurt, no one got hurt, you didnt lose precious family mementos or your favorite pet. You lost a coffeemaker, and a defective one at that.
Her mouth snapped shut and she looked up at him through thick, damp lashes. Dylan watched as another tear trickled down her cheek and he fought the temptation to reach out and catch it with his thumb.
Its not just any coffeemaker, she reminded him.
I know. Its an Espresso Deluxe 5000 whatever, he said. A big hunk of stainless steel with a few gauges and a lot of tubing. Lady, I have to say that
My names not lady, she insisted. She brushed the hair from her face, then wiped off a smudge of soot from the end of her nose. Its Meggie Flanagan.
Up until that very instant, the moment shed said her name, Dylan hadnt recognized her. Shed changeda lot. But there were still traces of the girl he knew so long ago. Meggie Flanagan? Mary Margaret Flanagan? Tommy Flanagans little sister.
She sent him a dismissive look. Maybe.
Dylan chuckled, then pulled his hat off and ran his fingers through his hair. Little Meggie Flanagan. So hows your brother? I havent seen him for ages.
She regarded him suspiciously at first, then her gaze flitted over to the name tape on his jacket right below his left shoulder. Her expression fell and a blush rose on her cheeks, so intense Dylan could see it beneath the soot. Quinn, she murmured. Oh, God. She braced her elbows on her knees, then buried her face in her hands. I should have figured youd show up and try to ruin my life all over again.
Ruin your life? Dylan asked. I saved your life!
She jumped to her feet. You did not, Meggie countered. I was perfectly capable of putting out that fire on my own.
Dylan crossed his arms over his chest. Then why did you call the fire department? he inquired.
I didnt, she muttered. The alarm company did.
He grabbed the dish towel from her hand and waved it in her face. And is this how you were planning to put it out? Dylan shook his head. Ill bet you dont even have a fire extinguisher inside, do you. If you only knew how many serious fires could be stopped with a simple fire extinguisher, I She tipped her chin up defiantly and his words died in his throat.
Meggie Flanagan. He almost felt embarrassed by his earlier attraction. After all, she was the little sister of one of his old buddies. There were unwritten rules between guys and one of the biggest was you didnt hit on a friends sister. But Meggie wasnt that gawky kid with the braces and the goofy glasses anymore. And he hadnt seen Tommy for years. I could cite you for a code violation.
Oh, go ahead, she challenged. With a soft curse, she neatly turned on her heel and walked back toward the shop. Considering our history, I wouldnt put it past you.
History? Dylan stared after her. Meggie Flanagan, he repeated, this time out loud. Hed always remembered her as a shy and nervous kid, the kind of girl who stood back and watched the world from a safe distance. This woman could never be classified as shy. She used to be so skinnyand flat as a board. Even from his vantage point, he could see that shed filled out in all the right places.
Hed spent hours after school at Tommy Flanagans house, listening to music or playing video games. And shed always been there, silently watching them through those thick glasses, standing in the shadows so she wouldnt be seen. Hed practically lived at the Flanagan house when he was a senior, but it wasnt the video games that brought him back again and again. Tommys mother was a cheerful and loving woman and she could always be depended on for an invitation to dinner, which Dylan gladly accepted.
Meggie always sat across from him at the table and whenever hed looked up, she was always staring at him, the very same stare she fixed on him whenever they met in the hallways at school. She was two years behind him, a sophomore when he was a senior, and though theyd never shared a class, he saw her at least once or twice a day near his locker or in the lunch room. Hed seen how the kids poked fun of her and Tommy had been particularly protective, so Dylan had felt the same, considering her a surrogate little sister.
He watched now as she paced back and forth in front of her shop, rubbing her arms against the early November wind. The urge to protect was still there, but it was heavily laced with an undeniable attraction, an overwhelming need to touch her again just to see if his reaction was the same. Dylan shrugged off his jacket then walked over to her. Here, he said. Youre going to catch a cold.