Page 28 of Wine and Research
“Not really,” he replied, but his lips twitched.
“Aw, come on,” she egged him on. “I’m sure you’ve had your share of women calling with a fake problem so you’d come over.”
He didn’t glance at her on that one, which was a dead giveaway as a yes.
“What’d they do? Complain about a prowler? Or use the cat in the tree scenario we were discussing before? Or set off their house security alarm?”
He chuckled. “All of the above.”
She was not surprised.
“Except the prowler one was an elderly widow who was just lonely,” he said, and his tone softened noticeably. “She had the same prowler problem every Tuesday when she made meatloaf and mashed potatoes for dinner.”
Elle smiled, picturing the scene of him pretending to look around, then staying to keep her company. “You ate dinner with her, didn’t you?”
He shook his head. “Not while I was on duty.”
“You didn’t?” She frowned, her heart clutching for the unknown woman. “That probably broke her heart.”
Again, he shook his head. “Nah. I explained why I couldn’t stay but told her if she had the same problem on Wednesday when I was off duty, I’d still come over to check things out, and would also be able to stay and eat. Other than my mother and sister, she was the only other woman to have my direct line.”
Elle’s chest did that tightening thing again, this time, cracking open the steel vault around her heart. Darn him. She didn’t want to feel anything but lust for the man, but here she was, fighting back more tears at his show of compassion for an elderly woman.
“That’s sweet.” She sniffed and cleared her throat.
Jeremy frowned at her, and she stifled a laugh. The poor guy appeared to have an allergy to the wordsweet.
“Don’t worry,” she said, patting his arm. “You’re secret’s safe with me, Officer Mercer.”
He opened his mouth as if to reply when his gaze flicked to something out her window, and he blinked.
“Shit,” he muttered, turning the corner onto another road, stepping on the gas until he screeched to a halt in front of a two-story house…with flames shooting out of an upstairs window.
Chapter Nine
Elle’s heart was in her throat as Jeremy barely parked and shut off the engine before he was out the door, talking into the radio attached to his shirt while racing to a frantic mother hugging a little boy and crying.
Unsure what he wanted her to do, she followed on his heels, since he hadn’t given the usual “Stay in the car” order.
From outside, the first floor appeared deceptively serene, but upstairs, smoke billowed out of two shattered windows, its dark tendrils curled around the eaves as if reaching for escape.
Through the smoke, flames licked the walls, raging unchecked, growing in intensity with each passing moment.
“My baby!” the mother screamed. “She’s upstairs in the nursery!”
“Where?” Jeremy asked, setting a hand on the distraught mother’s shoulder, probably more to keep the woman still than for comfort.
“In that room! She’s napping in that room!” She pointed to an upstairs window with a screen in it, but thank God, no flames.
Yet.
“I’ll get her, ma’am,” Jeremy reassured, his tone calm, cool, confident. “Is there anyone else inside?”
“No, just, Mila!” the woman cried, trying to move past him. “I have to get my baby!”
“I’ll get her,” he repeated, placing his body in front of her. “You stay here with your son.” When the woman nodded, he stepped to Elle. “I need you to keep her outside. Can you do that?”
“Yes,” she automatically replied. “But you can’t go in there. You’re not a firefighter.”
