Page 42 of The Night Belongs To Fireman

No one knew how it affected little Rachel.

The story tore at Fred’s heart and made him want to rip that evil man limb from limb. Rachel shouldn’t have to live with that sort of fear hanging over her. No one should.

And if he could do something about it, even something as minor as hanging out with her until her father testified, he would.

Chapter 12

Rachel’s guest suite had its own bathroom, Jacuzzi jets in the bathtub, and a remote control for the curtains. Everything was decorated in shades of sage green and ivory, like a photo spread in one of the magazines Fred’s mother kept in the bathroom. A plush carpet cushioned the bedroom floor, and the bed itself was covered in a silk comforter as light as mist.

He’d never experienced anything like the luxury Rachel took for granted. The Breen household had been chaotic and loud, and the brothers had been hard on the battered furniture. He’d shared a room with his brother Zee until his senior year. At the firehouse he slept on something little better than a cot. And he’d never given much thought to his own home decor.

What must Rachel have thought of his utterly ordinary living quarters? Then again, who cared? He’d never aspired to be Martha Stewart.

“I’ve been thinking about how to make this work.” Rachel appeared at his side with a pile of freshly washed towels. He jumped.

“You know, I think this carpet’s a security risk,” he told her. “It’s too damn quiet.”

“Want me to wear a bell?”

Sure. And nothing else. Damn. He really had to do something about this crazy attraction. “Not you, silly. Anyone who tries to sneak in.”

She laughed. “Wait until I show you the multilayered security system. You won’t be worried about the carpet. Besides, knowing my father, this carpet is programmed to recognize people’s body weight and set off an alarm if it doesn’t match someone on the approved list.”

He eyed the ivory pile beneath his feet. “Remind me not to gain any weight.”

“Anyway, about the ground rules.”

“Right. Ground rules.” He took the towels from her.

“First of all, I was thinking we should wipe the slate clean, so we’re starting over on a professional basis.”

“Makes sense.”

Her shoulders lost some of their tension. He wondered if it would be “professional” to offer her a neck rub. Probably not.

She went on. “Neither of us wanted this arrangement, but if we’re very clear about our respective needs, we should get along okay.”

Needs. Did she have to mention needs? Especially while she was wearing black yoga pants that showed off every curve of her legs?

“I don’t have needs,” he said firmly, trying to convince himself. “I’m here to do a job, that’s all.”

“Yes, but if you think about it, we’re going to be living together for at least two weeks. Like roommates,” she added. “When I roomed with Liza, Cindy, and Feather, we had a weekly meeting to air any issues we had.”

“I’m not going to have issues.” He tried not to laugh at the idea. “I have brothers and I work at a firehouse. We never air any issues. Except after Double D’s meatballs. We have to air the whole place out then.”

“That’s gross.” At the look of horror on her face, he gave in to his urge to laugh.

“You have no idea.” He looked at the pile of towels she’d given him. “What’s all this for, anyway?”

“Hand towel, bath towel, bathrobe, washcloth, just the basics.”

He scowled down at the pile. “Do I have to use them all? I’m more of a single-towel kind of guy.”

“You don’t have hand towels? What do you dry your hands on?”

He shrugged, walking into the sunny tiled bathroom to deposit the towels on top of the toilet tank. Apparently that was the wrong place for them. She immediately hung a smallish towel and a washcloth on the rod next to the sink. The urge to tease her again came over him. “I dry my hands on whatever’s available. If nothing else, the bath mat.”

“The bath mat?” In the midst of hanging the bath mat on the side of the tub, she clutched it in horror.

“Of course, I don’t always have a bath mat around. So sometimes I use my own hair. Or my ass cheeks.”

“What?”

He lost it, breaking into laughter. “We’ve really got to work on your gullibility while I’m here. Maybe I should charge your father extra for that.”

She pinned him with wide, suspicious violet eyes. “So you don’t dry your hands on the bath mat?”

“No, that part was true.”

He kept his face deadpan, giving nothing away. She took a step closer, and the hair on his arms prickled. He tried really hard not to think about getting her naked in that Jacuzzi tub.

“Well.” She gave him a sly smile. “Please don’t dry your hands on the living room carpet. The housekeeper would have a fit.”

He laughed out loud. So Rachel could give as well as she got. Oh yes, this was going to be more fun that he’d thought.

“We’ll put it in the ground rules. What about the bedspread?”

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