The Woman for Dusty Conrad Read online

  A pause, then, “Good. Thanks.”

  Jones hung up, but Dusty stood for long moments, his fingers seemingly frozen to the receiver as Jones’s words rushed through his mind then back again. I could even use you….

  Dusty hauled the phone from his ear and slowly hung it up. He hadn’t worked a fire since Erick’s accident six months ago. Didn’t even know if he had it in him anymore. He already knew he didn’t have the stomach for it. He’d nearly bodily stopped Jolie from going into the Johansen’s yesterday when all she’d been doing was her job.

  “What is it?” Jolie asked from the table.

  For a fraction of a moment he considered not telling her. But he knew he couldn’t do that. Not wanting her to go and lying to her were two very different things.

  His gaze flicked over the expectant faces staring at him. From the twins who were frowning at his unexplained silence, to Darby’s apprehensive silence, to little Ellie, who’d dropped her chin to her chest while squeezing her napkin so tightly he thought it might disintegrate.

  “Four-alarm down on Main.” He decided not to tell everyone there that it was the general store. Fire was bad enough without associating it with someone or someplace you knew. “Jones needs you down there pronto.”

  As if on cue, the city siren calling volunteer firefighters to duty pierced the air outside the house.

  The twins started to get up. Darby stayed them with a quick hand. “Oh, no you don’t. You two just sit right where you are. This doesn’t concern you.”

  “Aw, Mom…”

  She gave them each a reprimanding stare, then glanced at Dusty. “Why don’t you go down with Jolie. You know, so she won’t have to leave her Jeep on the street. I’ll look after Ellie.” She glanced at the youngster who had yet to lift her head. “In fact, why don’t the four of us just go on out to the ranch. I want to check on Julius after the vet visit. And maybe Ellie can help out with the afternoon feeding.” She reached out and gently grasped the little girl’s hands, stilling them. “What do you say, Ellie?”

  Jolie was already standing, pulling on her jacket. “Boy, I’d rather do that, myself.”

  Dusty grimaced as he looked at her. He suspected there wasn’t anything out there that Jolie would like to do better than fighting fires. Putting her life in danger. Charging in like some hell-bent heroine on a mission.

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “Thanks, Darby. I think I’ll do that.”

  Two hours later, every last one of Jolie’s muscles screamed for relief. Despite the cool October temperatures, she sweated under the turnout suit. While physical exertion was the main culprit, working side by side with Dusty again after so long was just as much to blame.

  She cast him a furtive glance as he helped her up on top of the roof of the general store, but he wasn’t looking at her. Instead, his mouth was drawn tight, his face as tense as she’d ever seen it, and she spotted evidence of his own sweating across the handsome expanse of his forehead.

  She motioned toward the far corner of the building. “Chief said we should reventilate over here.”

  He swept the beam of the flashlight over the area, spotlighting where the earlier ventilation had been made not too far from where they stood, then nodded. He grabbed her when she would have cut a diagonal path across the rooftop toward the area in question. “Stick to the sides,” he said.

  She nodded, skirting the one-foot rise at the edge of the building twice, then taking her ax from her pocket. She made an invisible cross with the blade, mentally marking where she wanted to hit, then froze, staring at Dusty’s face.

  Jolie dropped the ax to lie pick-first on the rooftop. “Are you okay, Dusty?”

  His gaze flicked to hers and she drew a quick breath at the odd mixture of emotion she saw in the brown depths of his eyes. He seemed angry and hurt all at once. An unusual combination she didn’t quite know how to react to.

  Throughout the seven years they’d worked together before, he’d always been a go-getter, Johnny on the spot, refusing to let anyone else do something he was chomping at the bit to do.

  However, she noticed that over the past two hours, he’d lagged behind, almost trying to make himself invisible, except when the wall downstairs caved in and they’d needed the extra hands.

  His jaw tightened. He hadn’t thought twice then. “I’m fine. Let’s just get this over with so we can get out of here.”

  Jolie’s heart skipped a beat at the sound of his voice. “Okay. Shine the light here.”

  He did as asked, standing slightly off to the side as she lifted the ax and pounded once, then twice, until the blade punctured the blacktop-and-tar tiles. Working the edge inside, she jimmied the material until a thin stream of smoke billowed out. Smoke caused by the dousing of the fire below. After a few more carefully aimed hacks, she judged the hole wide enough.

  “That ought to do it,” she said, dropping the ax to her side.

  He nodded, then began walking back the way they’d come.

  Jolie tried to ignore the way her heart thudded in her chest. While fixated on how Dusty was reacting to the experience, it was easy to ignore her own feelings. But now that the fire was under control and soon to be completely extinguished, she could no longer put off examining the peculiar emotions pulsing through her veins. It was almost as if for the first time she could see herself through someone else’s eyes. While she’d been able to concentrate when the occasion called for it, always there, lingering on the edge of her consciousness, was Dusty’s point of view.

  For the first time she knew fear and trepidation, where before there had been none beyond the normal caution she exercised in her job. Nerves she didn’t know she possessed now tingled with a sense of danger, of foreboding. Her chest hurt with it, her mouth was dry, and she felt almost sick to her stomach.

  Is that how Dusty was feeling at that very moment? How he had felt since the moment he received the call from Jones? Was it how he felt whenever he watched her suit up, eager to go out on a run?

  She dragged the back of her gloved hand against her forehead, pushing her bangs back out of her eyes. She wasn’t sure she wanted to see herself through Dusty’s eyes. Especially not now, when it appeared the decision to end their marriage had been made. She didn’t want that kind of connection, understanding. The time for that had come and gone. Especially given the sober expression on Dusty’s face.

  “You go first.”

  Jolie started at the sound of Dusty’s voice, eyeing where he was stopped at the side of the building in front of the iron fire escape. She nodded and did as he suggested.

  When they were both back safely on the ground, and had apprised the chief of their success in reventilating, he gave them a thumbs-up.

  “Good.” Jones heaved a sigh and looked at his watch. “It looks like we have this baby knocked down. Why don’t you two head on home. Group 2 can take care of things from here, see to the overhaul.”

  Jolie’s throat tightened. Home.

  And twenty minutes later, after the shucking of their turnout suits, a silent truck ride home, and a phone call to check up on Ellie, who was asleep at Darby’s, that’s exactly where they were. Home. Alone.

  Jolie washed her hands in the kitchen sink, then scrubbed them with cleanser to get the soot out from under her fingernails. She absently wondered why it should seem funny to be alone with Dusty. Before they’d taken on care of Ellie, wasn’t that how they’d been? Alone?

  But somehow being alone with him now was more intense, more meaningful and decidedly more intimate.

  “Why don’t you take the first shower?” Dusty offered, shrugging out of his coat, then hanging it on a hanger on the back porch to air out. Jolie watched him make movements he’d made a hundred times before, but only now really registering them.

  He closed the door and she shook her head, concentrating again on her nails. “No. You go on ahead. I’ll catch one after you’re done.”

  She felt his gaze on her face but refused to meet it.

&nbs
p; “Are you sure?”

  She nodded and bit her bottom lip as she held her hands under the streaming water. “Yeah.” She smiled tremulously. “You know I always needed a few minutes to get my thoughts together after a fire.”

  He cleared his throat. “I’d forgotten.”

  What else have you forgotten, Dusty? The question zoomed through Jolie’s mind, but she refused to ask it. Instead, she waited until she heard his footsteps on the stairs before switching off the faucet and absently wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. For long moments she stood like that, staring through the back window onto the lawn that needed cutting, the leaves that needed raking, and considering a relationship that was long overdue for attention.

  She supposed that in the city, a couple like her and Dusty might seek out counseling to delve into the problems that plagued them. But here, in Old Orchard, they had to rely on themselves. A challenge she hadn’t been up to. A challenge she feared she wasn’t up to now.

  How could she hope to help Dusty get beyond his fears if she didn’t completely understand them? Yes, she may have gained a bit of insight into how he felt on the site, but she couldn’t help thinking that was but the tip of the proverbial iceberg. And if he wouldn’t share his feelings with her, any attempts she made to make things right between them, to heal wounds she couldn’t see, would remain that: hopeless attempts.

  She closed her eyes, listening as the shower switched on upstairs. Running her fingers over the rough material of the towel, she found the concept of Dusty completely nude, washing the dark soot from his muscular body, almost unbearably normal. And temptingly erotic.

  She gave an involuntary shiver, trying to recall something her grandfather had told her once, when she’d burned the chicken for the fiftieth time and was about to give up on cooking altogether.

  “Sometimes knowing isn’t enough, Jolie C. Oftentimes you have to trust your instincts, stop looking at the clock, measuring the flame, and turn those pieces when you think it’s time to turn them.”

  She’d been cooking from an old book she’d found stuffed in the attic, circa 1950, that included instructions down to the depth of the oil in the pan. The next time she made the chicken, she followed Gramps’ advice and found he was right. She’d been paying so much attention to the details, she’d stopped listening to her instincts.

  She popped open her eyes and laid the towel on the counter. Is that what she’d been doing with Dusty? Paying too much attention to what was wrong, and ignoring what was so right between them?

  And if she were to try to listen to those instincts now, what would she find they were telling her?

  She swallowed hard, knowing exactly what they were whispering. The heat covering her skin, the dampness between her thighs, and the pulsing of her body told her she wanted to go straight upstairs and climb right into that shower with Dusty. With her husband.

  Chapter 14

  Dusty turned his face into the undulating spray of the shower, but no matter what he did, he couldn’t seem to shake the anxiety holding his muscles hostage.

  What had happened to the guy who could boldly step into any fire situation without a second thought? Face down the red, licking monster without blinking? Follow a grueling day with a beer or two with the guys and shoot the breeze as if they’d done nothing more significant than yard work?

  He leaned a hand against the shower stall and dropped his head, allowing the spray to cascade down into his face. That man, that Dusty Conrad, had disappeared along with his brother six months ago.

  He stood like that for long minutes, under the punishingly hot shower, trying to get a handle on his emotions. Was Jolie right? Could his current behavior, his recent decisions, be linked straight back to Erick’s death? Rather than her being to blame for their estrangement, could he, in fact, be the one responsible for the loss of the best thing in his life?

  He shuddered despite the heat of the shower, then turned around, wiping the moisture from his eyes. When he opened them again, he found one very naked, very proud Jolie edging her way into the shower, looking at him expectantly.

  Dusty groaned, wondering if he’d ever seen a more welcome sight. “Hi,” he said.

  Her fleeting smile told him how lame his greeting was. “Hi, yourself.” She glanced down at where the water swirled down the center drain. “I, um, decided I couldn’t wait. You know, for that shower.”

  He shifted slightly. “There’s more than enough room for two.”

  Her gaze flicked back up to his face. “Actually, all I need is room for one.”

  She hesitantly reached out, her hands finding the water-covered planes of his chest. Dusty’s heart stuttered and he caught her fingers in his, examining the sexy intent in her eyes.

  God, how he wanted this woman. Had always wanted her. And looking at her now, her hair slick and smooth against her head, water droplets clinging to her lashes, moisture running over her pink, full lips, he was astounded he’d found the courage to leave her.

  Or had it been courage? Had his fleeing from his job…his home…his wife…been an act of cowardice? A result of the same fear he’d experienced on the fire site earlier?

  “Please…kiss me, Dusty,” Jolie whispered, whisking the water from her ripe flesh with a quick, anxious flick of her tongue.

  He gently grasped her shoulders and turned her until she was leaning against the side of the shower, then lowered his mouth to hers, doing exactly as she asked. Doing exactly as he yearned to.

  He slowly drew his tongue along the rim of her lips, dipping between them, intoxicated by the taste of the water and her own unique flavor. She made a sound in her throat and curved her arms around his waist, tugging him nearer, closer, until his hard flesh pressed against her softness, the heat of the water no match for the growing heat of their bodies. He gained access to the depths of her mouth, then dropped his hands to her breasts. Her shudder edged up his need for her even more as he plucked at her engorged nipples, rolling them between his fingertips, telling her with his body what he couldn’t with words.

  Sliding his tongue into the honeyed depths of her mouth, he reveled in the texture of her teeth, her warmth, her responsiveness, aware of her curving her leg around his, seeking a closer, more intimate contact. He slid his right hand from her breast and blindly reached for the soap in the stand behind her. Cupping the bar in his hand, he positioned it against the delicate line of her collarbone, then drew it down between her breasts, then up and under a firm mound, wondering at the pliancy of her slick flesh. Her own fingers dipped down to curve around his rear, then up the length of his back, her attentions suddenly restless as he drew the bar down to her belly button, then down even lower.

  Jolie tugged her mouth from his, dragging in deep gasps of air as he slid the soap between her swollen folds, drawing it back…and forth…then back again.

  “Oh, yes,” she murmured, kissing his shoulder, then taking his skin between her teeth.

  He drew the soap out, then moved it down one slender hip and thigh, bringing it up under her arm then over, repeating his movements until every inch of her skin was covered with lather, until not a whiff of the acrid smell from the fire remained, only the scent of the soap and one-hundred-percent pure, hot Jolie.

  Her fingers trembling, she took the soap from him, apparently intent on doing the same to him. Her gaze caught and held his as she slowly, torturously budged the solid bar along the planes of his chest, over his flat, hard nipples, down over his abs, then teasingly bypassed the area in most need of her sensual ministrations, instead circling his waist and drawing the bar along his back.

  Dusty thought he would die from anticipation as he fought to hold as still as possible, to allow Jolie the room she needed to explore. He clenched his jaw and hissed when her hands again flitted across the hypersensitive skin of his lower abdomen. Then she lathered her hands and placed the soap back into the dish and plunged down to the area that had been longing for her attention the most.

  The feel of her sudsy, slip
pery fingers curving around his pulsing erection caused him to groan in barely suppressed longing. But suppress it he did, his mind spinning, his skin burning as she stroked him lengthwise, then circled his arousal and squeezed. Dusty realized he had his eyes clamped shut and cracked them open, watching Jolie’s wonderfully expressive face through the steam. Her attention was on what she was doing, her tongue dipping out to lick her lips as her hands continued their skillful stroking.

  The rush of blood toward Dusty’s groin warned of his impending climax. He thrust his hand to still hers, holding her gaze when she blinked up to look into his eyes.

  “Darlin’, the next step I’d rather have us do together.”

  She took in a deep breath, the move inflating her chest, and bringing her wet breasts into sensual relief. He bent briefly to nuzzle them, to drag her hot, hard nipples deep into his mouth, then he cupped her under one knee and moved her to rest against the side of the shower stall.

  Finally his rock-hard erection pressed against her slick, swollen, ready flesh. Dusty knew a moment of hesitation. Not because he didn’t want her with all that he was. Not because he sensed second thoughts from her. No. He wanted to savor the moment. Commit to memory the pounding of the shower spray against the porcelain tile. The sound of Jolie’s ragged breathing echoing in the small enclosure. The feel of her moist folds against him.

  He slowly bent his head and claimed her mouth. As his tongue slid against hers, as her sweet smell filled his nose, her hands restlessly explored his chest, then circled around to draw him even closer. He knew he’d never experienced a moment more exquisite. Genuine. Honest.

  When they were apart, the outside world intruded, life allowed him the opportunity to consider those things that pointed to a lack of commitment. But when they were together like this…on the verge of lovemaking…their hearts hammering a rhythm only the other understood, he knew that what they had was unique. Precious. There was no room for pettiness. Only honesty, pure and simple.