Page 48 of The Night Belongs To Fireman

“I’m not upset. Everything’s fine. We’ve never had any problems here. It’s a refuge. A safe place. Do you know what my father would do if you start making a fuss about the security?”

That brought him up short. He hadn’t thought of that. “I’m just asking for my own information. I’m not going to say anything to your dad.”

“Aren’t you? Don’t you work for him? Do you have any idea what—” She broke off, grabbing her key out of her purse, then snatching back the bag. Before she could open the door, Fred blocked it with one hand.

“Finish your sentence. Do I have any idea what …”

She angled her head away from him, the dark strands catching amber light from the sinking sun. “Forget it,” she choked.

“Let me guess. Do I have any idea how much this place means to you? Do I have any idea how crushed you’d be if your father shut it down?”

Her slim body went still. The breeze caught at her spring-green blouse, made the thin material press against her back, outlining the clasp of her bra. The little detail tugged at his heart. He noticed that a whisper-slight strand of hair had caught in the chain of her necklace. Rachel might be rich beyond his wildest dreams, but she was also painfully vulnerable.

He cleared his throat. “Listen, Rachel. Remember how I set that condition when your dad wanted to hire me?”

She sniffed, lifting her head a tiny bit. The delicate tendons of her neck shifted under her baby-soft skin. He wanted to taste her there. He wanted to taste her everywhere.

“I told him I wouldn’t take the job unless you knew the whole story. I’m not sure I ever explained why that was so important to me.”

She fiddled with her car keys. He really wished she’d look at him, but didn’t press her.

“So here’s the reason. It’s your life. You deserve to be completely informed about it. You’re not a child.” Thank God she wasn’t, or he’d have to have a long talk with his lust-crazed body.

“No, I’m not a child,” she said in a husky voice that seemed to communicate directly with his hormones. “But my dad worries, and I can’t blame him.”

“How about this. I’ll make you a promise. I won’t say anything to your father until I say it to you first. If I see something that alarms me, I’ll tell you. Then we can both consider what to do. But I won’t do anything without you knowing about it. What do you think?”

Slowly, ever so slowly, she turned. Leaning one hip against the door of her specially altered Saab, she raised her eyes to meet his. The wariness in those violet depths nearly broke his heart. The wariness, and the longing to trust. “That sounds fair,” she said cautiously. “Aren’t you sending reports to my dad, the way Marsden does?”

“Nope. I’m leaving that to Marsden. I wouldn’t want your father to suffer from information overload.”

A smile twitched at her lips. Her full, down-turned lips. The lips he hadn’t been able to get out of his mind since their two sizzling kisses. “I wish you could understand … what it feels like to have one tiny bit of freedom, and to be constantly worried it might get taken away.”

He touched her cheek, very quickly and lightly, because he just couldn’t help it. “I’m on your side. I promise.”

He thought about that promise during the entire drive home. His week of guarding her had made him realize that he’d never choose her life, no matter how much money it came with. Kessler was such a maniac about security that he insisted on vetting everyone who got close to Rachel—or even got close to getting close. No wonder she stuck with a very small, tight group of friends that she’d known since college. She was lucky to have those friends.

Rachel had confided that her father hadn’t even wanted her to attend college. “You can get the same education or better online,” he’d told her. But she’d stuck to her guns until her father agreed to San Gabriel College because it was so “small and dull.”

As a native San Gabreleño, Fred didn’t appreciate that description, but he could see Kessler’s point.

With all those restrictions on her social life, Rachel didn’t get out much, at least compared to most girls her age. Like Lizzie, for example, who had boys trailing after her like toilet paper on her shoe. But Rachel didn’t seem to mind. The Refuge was her passion, and when she wasn’t at work, she was reading books about animal behavior and training techniques. Twice a week she took a ballet class at Move Me Dance Studio, where Cherie worked. Marsden told Fred he’d discreetly done a check on every student in the class. Fred thought that was going overboard, unless some ballerina planned to take her out with a wayward pirouette.

Rachel might be content with her existence, but Fred kept thinking about the first time he’d seen her, that giddy, devil-may-care girl who’d waltzed up to his table and snatched his trophy. And he couldn’t forget the look he’d seen in her eyes as she’d talked about her lack of freedom.

So that night, after they’d consumed a pepperoni mushroom pizza for dinner, and after Marsden had dropped in for his nightly check-in, Fred decided to spring a surprise on her.

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