With Courage And Commitment

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.