Fire at Twilight: The Firefighters of Darling Bay 1 Read online

  Grace palpated his foot gently.

  “Will I live?”

  She patted him—a professional touch, sure—on the ankle and moved around, rolling up to his other wrist. “Probably.”

  Wrapping her fingers around his right wrist, she listened. She’d had a lot of education, yes. She’d trained for years in not only Eastern but Western medicine, too. She’d be paying her student loans back for the rest of her life. But this—listening to the body with her hands—was more than just learning where to place your fingers. She unfocused her eyes and let herself hear what the blood was saying in this man’s thick wrist.

  She’d expected thready. She could tell Tox wasn’t in the habit of taking care of himself. But instead, she felt his energy moving quickly. It was wide and full. It was what one of her teachers would have called “a rebellious Qi.” Its rhythm was hurried—that didn’t surprise her. She liked the way his pulse felt under her fingertips. And that fact—the unprofessionalism of it—unnerved her more than his strength.

  A grip. She had to get one. “May I see your tongue, please?”

  A lazy smile spread across his face. “I didn’t think this was that kind of place, but sure, babe.”

  He was trying to rattle her.

  But she wouldn’t be rattled. Nope. “Thanks. Just stick it out for me.”

  So close. She was so close to him.

  “Okay.” She cleared her throat. “Have you ever had trouble with your gallbladder?”

  He shook his head.

  He smelled of soap, a green scent, and lightly, of sweat. But his breath was sweet. “You can put your tongue away now, thanks.”

  “There are so many responses I want to make to that …” he said.

  “Well, you don’t have to.” Grace rolled her stool backward and grabbed the needle box from the low Chinese table. “I’ve probably heard them all. Tell me about your body.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she wanted to take them back.

  A low laugh. “I think we’re moving a little too fast, sugar. Don’t I get to buy you dinner first?”

  She prayed her cheeks weren’t flushing the way she felt they might be. “Tell me about your back issues.”

  His eyes narrowed. “My back is fine.”

  “Really?” His posture was protective, even now, sitting in the most relaxed position possible. His elbows were tight at his sides, his legs pushing tension toward her so that she could feel it in waves.

  But she kept her voice light as she gestured to her own neck. “You seem to be rubbing right here.”

  With a guilty expression, he dropped his hand. “Just a little tight. In the neck. Not my back.”

  Grace nodded. “Sometimes the neck is the way the back gets our attention.” She picked up a needle. “We have a place to address that, don’t worry.”

  “Ooof.” He winced.

  “I haven’t touched you yet.” Why did everything she said come out sounding dirty? Grace had never had this problem before. When she’d been getting her Master’s, one of her fellow students had fallen in love with a patient who frequented the student clinic. It had been the scandal of the year, and she’d never completed her training. Grace remember thinking, You shouldn’t be in the job if you can’t keep your hands to yourself when it matters.

  And right now, all she could think about was the way his skin felt under her fingertips, rough and hard and somehow … sweet, too. Dang it all. She had to get a grip.

  “Okay, have a look at this.” She rolled back toward him, conscious of going slowly. “See how tiny it is? Thinner than a human hair.”

  “It’s still a needle.”

  “But look, it’s so flexible.”

  “You can’t pierce skin with a human hair. Therefore, that’s a needle.”

  Grace warmed up. This was the part she was best at. “Just lie back. You can keep your eyes open or close them, whatever’s most comfortable to you. I’ll press on different areas of your skin and ask you questions, and then I’ll put in the points. If it’s an area where you need work, it will zing.”

  “You mean hurt.”

  “I mean twinge. Just a little.” She touched the skin between his thumb and first finger lightly. “I’ll put the first one here.”

  Tox sat back with his eyes closed. Then he opened them again. Yep, she knew he’d be a watcher. He wasn’t the kind of man who liked to relinquish control over anything at all. “Do it,” he said.

  “I already did.”

  “Huh?” Yanking his hand toward his face, he examined the needle wobbling in the back of his hand. “Ow.”

  “Really? Does that actually hurt?”

  “No,” he said slowly. “So freaking weird. I didn’t feel you put it in.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Grace. “You will.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  She was right. Tox felt three of the needles stab him like tiny little vicious knives. She put one a few inches above his ankle, and he almost came right off the chair. “What are you doing?”

  “Mmm,” she said. “Have you been craving sugar lately?”

  All the time. Every day. Morning and night. “Nah, not that much.”

  “Huh, that surprises me.”

  The pain, as sharp as it was, was precise and lasted only a second. Most of the needles he didn’t feel at all, not even as a tickle.

  “That’s bizarre,” Tox said, marveling at the way the needles danced and bobbed in his arms as if they were dancing on air currents. Maybe they were.

  “Now just relax,” Grace said, snapping the box shut. She swiveled to face him. “Are you comfortable? Warm enough?”

  She was so dang pretty. That was the thing. The more Tox looked at her, the more he liked looking at her. Her skin was practically radiant. Shoot. That’s not the way he needed to think. Next thing he knew he’d be spouting poetry about flowers and kittens at her. And her lashes were so long he thought they might tangle if she slept on her pillow the wrong way. “Are you wearing that … black stuff?”

  Tox knew the word he was looking for, but his brain was suddenly too relaxed to work very hard to come up with it.

  “Excuse me?” She blinked hard, and her maple-syrup eyes seemed even prettier.

  He blinked back. “You know. That stuff that makes your lashes long.”

  Grace bit her lower lip and a fingertip brushed her eye. “Mascara? No. I forgot to put any on this morning. I didn’t think anyone …”

  She didn’t think what? That anyone would be looking at her eyes? How could people not? Tox felt something warm in his abdomen and let his own eyes droop for a moment.

  “Just rest,” she said in a soft voice. “I might have other drop-ins, but try your best to ignore what else might be going on in the room. I’ll keep my eye on you and when you’re ready, just let me know.”

  That woke Tox up a little. “How will I know when I’m ready?”

  She smiled, and he noticed for the first time that when she did, a dimple dug deeply into her right cheek. It made her a little bit lopsided and even cuter. Well, shoot.

  Tox was nursing a full-on crush.

  It had been a long time since he’d felt this. It was kind of fun. He let his eyes drift closed again. This morning if anyone had told him he would have fallen asleep in public, he would have called that person stark-plumb crazy, maybe worse. It just felt good sitting here, that was all. Sitting in the room full of plants, a ray of sun slanting over his knees. He could hear Grace rustling around in another room, and he pictured her, tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear. The phone rang softly, and he heard her voice talking low enough that he couldn’t make out the words. Somewhere, a clock ticked.

  Tox drifted away.

  <>

  “How are you doing?”

  Tox opened his eyes, surprised but not startled to see Grace sitting next to him. Her lips were shiny and pink now. “Sorry. I guess I fell asleep.”

  “For two hours, yeah.”

  “No way.” At home, he never went more
than forty-five minutes without rolling over and looking at his clock. At work, it was even shorter. On nights when they didn’t get calls, he still slept with one ear open, waiting for the tones that would convey a structure fire or a medical emergency.

  “People don’t usually knock out that way for more than thirty minutes, but sometimes I get someone like you. I thought I’d check, though. I didn’t know if you had some place to be at a certain time.”

  “Nah.”

  Nowhere but here.

  “Okay, I’ll take out your points.”

  Tox winced, but he felt them leaving his skin even less than he’d felt them going in.

  “How do you feel?” Grace’s touch was cool. Professional.

  Yeah. His reaction to her was anything but. “Fine,” he said.

  “Fine is good,” she said, wiping at a dot of blood on his wrist he couldn’t even feel.

  “Maybe …”

  She smiled without meeting his gaze. “Maybe a little better than fine?”

  Tox shook his head, forgetting that she hadn’t taken out a needle in his ear. His blasted ear. “I just don’t get how it works.”

  She sat back, dropping the used needles into a sharps box. “I can tell you all about it if you want me to, but something tells me you’re not going to buy what I say about channels of energy.”

  She was right. He probably wouldn’t. But there was that whole story … “Lexie told me something a cat.”

  “Oh, yeah! That’s how I met her! She came in here after her brother’s cat was helped. That’s a great story. And I have to say, you react the same way the cat did.”

  “Awesome.” That was the way he wanted this woman to think of him. Like a danged kitty cat. Nope, he was all tiger. And those little needles made him want to growl with happiness. He wanted to stretch and roll over in his bed, taking her with him.

  Where had that thought come from? But now, the more he tried not to think it, the more he couldn’t help himself. What would that mouth feel like on his? Those shiny lips made him want to taste them, to see if the gloss tasted sweet or if that was just her. Right now, as she leaned over him, checking the point on his forehead where he’d had a needle, he could just put his hand up, behind her neck …

  And then, before he could stop himself, he did exactly that.

  When he put his hand on her neck, she started. Her eyes opened wide but she didn’t pull away. Tox gave her enough time to do that. That one second, that’s all she would have needed to back away. To pretend nothing had happened.

  But instead, her eyes heated.

  And that was all he needed.

  He pulled her down, bringing his mouth to hers in a kiss that started hot and then blazed higher, instantly. Her mouth dragged across his. Her bottom lip—he could spend a full day right there, just running his tongue along the sensual swell and curve her mouth made.

  Instead, though, she kissed him harder, her tongue meeting his, matching him in a contest of wills that had two winners. She tasted like mint and vanilla, and something that was uniquely her, something rich and warm. Heady.

  Tox groaned against her mouth—and he couldn’t help it, he needed more. More contact than just her lips against his. He moved his hand from behind her head to around her waist and pulled her toward him. She pulled back momentarily, her eyes wide and dilated. She teetered, off-balance.

  Taking advantage of the move, Tox pulled her down so that she fell against his body.

  Now she was on top of him. There was no way she wasn’t going to feel how hot she was making him. He was harder than the pole at the station, and goshdarn if he didn’t want another kiss from that mouth that was about to make him over-the-top crazy.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  On top of Tox Ellis. On top of him. In one of her recliners, no less.

  Instead of trying to figure out how to get off him, though, Grace tried to catch her breath. It wasn’t easy. Tox was all man, and getting more manly by the second, she realized. She should climb down and claim a billing problem in the back. She should tell him he could settle up with the gift certificate later.

  Instead, she lowered her mouth to his again. She kissed him harder, a white-hot blaze igniting in her core. She was melting inside, she couldn’t think, she couldn’t hear anything but his moan and a low roar of blood pounding in her eardrums. His hand strayed from her waist to the small of her back, and he pulled her flush against him.

  She tried to prevent herself—she really did—but she moved against his length, driving her hips into his. He responded in kind, digging his hands into her hair and scraping his lips against hers. She couldn’t breathe, not with the explosion she was feeling inside—she’d never felt heat like this in her body. It scared the wits out of Grace, and she knew one thing—she did not want to stop kissing this man whose arms felt like steel and whose tongue was hotter than sin.

  Then, from the door, came a noise.

  A soft, “Oh!” that should have been almost inaudible, but Grace’s senses seemed super-powered, heightened almost to the point of pain. The exclamation rang like a gunshot inside her head and she jerked her mouth away from Tox and turned.

  Pastor Jacobs stood in the open doorway, one hand over his mouth. In his other hand, tucked under his arm, he held what looked like a struggling animal of some kind.

  Behind him, her sister Samantha was doubled over in what looked like a silent laughing fit.

  “Oh, Jesus,” said Grace.

  “I don’t think He’s watching that closely right now, child,” said Pastor Jacobs.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Grace clambered off Tox as gracefully as she could while her sister laughed behind the still-stunned looking minister. “I was …” she started. “I was just …”

  Samantha made a choking noise. Grace knew that once Samantha got caught in a giggle fit, it wasn’t something she could snap out of quickly, no matter how hard anyone tried to get her to calm down. And Sam had launched herself into this one full force.

  “It’s okay, Grace,” said Pastor Jacobs.

  Tox’s grin wasn’t helping anything, Grace noted. He looked like he’d just put out a fire one-handed.

  “I was just looking for any more needles. They’re so thin, and light, you know. Practically invisible. Remember when I forgot to take the one out of the top of your head, Pastor?” It hadn’t been one of her finer moments, actually. Why did it always have to be the pastor who saw her do the most stupid things?

  Samantha let out a giggle that sounded almost maniacal in its intensity. “I’m sorry,” she said, both hands over her mouth. “It was just … the Pastor, and the dog … oh, stop it, the dog …” And she was off again, no hope for return.

  Grace said crisply, “Can you please wait on the porch for us, Samantha?”

  Sam nodded and fled, still hiccupping with laughter.

  Grace smoothed the front of her jeans, as if she could erase what the pastor had seen.

  “You have a dog with you, I see,” she said formally.

  “I do,” said Pastor Jacobs with relief. “I sure do. I met both the puppy and your sister on my walk over here, and I thought maybe you might know something about where this little gal belongs.”

  Tox by now had swung up in his chair so that he was no longer reclined. He unfolded himself and stood next to Grace. She could feel his heat against her arm. Self-consciously, she rubbed her lips on the back of her hand. No gloss transferred. Somehow she’d lost all of it against Tox’s mouth. Great.

  “I’m sorry,” said Grace. “I’ve never seen her before.”

  Pastor’s long face fell, making him look even more lachrymose than usual. “I guess I’ll take her to the shelter, then.”

  “Wait,” said Grace. “Let’s at least have a good look at her.”

  From the porch outside, a howl of laughter rose.

  Both men joined Grace in pretending they heard nothing.

  Pastor Jacobs set the dog on the hardwood floor. It was small and yellow, a solid
little block of short-haired fluff, with longer hair at the ears. She could have been a mix between a Golden Retriever and some kind of spaniel, with her short little legs, long body and long, fluffy ears. She was ridiculous looking. She was so thin her ribs poked out from her skin, and she was missing a patch of fur on the top of her head. A thin trail of drool went to the floor, and her eyes were wet and sad as she looked up at Grace and Tox.

  Another howl of laughter went up on the porch.

  “What was so funny about the dog?” Grace asked. She knew Samantha was laughing at catching her and Tox in a clinch, but she’d said something about laughing at the dog beforehand.

  “I think she was laughing at me, not the dog. I’d just gotten out of a service—Bill Tunney’s funeral, you know.”

  All three pulled appropriately somber faces. Grace had never met the man herself.

  “And I was still in my robes. While I was outside saying goodbye to the mourners, this little thing came up and squatted on Mrs. Chumley’s shoe. When Mrs. Chumley screamed at her, the dog ran right out into traffic. I ran after her.”

  Samantha’s head popped up in the window that opened onto the porch. “And then he was chasing the dog! All flapping in his purple robes, that dog always just in front of him. They shut down all of Second Street. I swear, a school bus almost plowed into the Turners’s tractor.”

  Color drained from Pastor Jacobs’s face. “Can you imagine?” he whispered. “If I’d caused a devastating accident, just because I was chasing a … dog?” The unspoken curse word hung in the room.

  Samantha—still laughing—disappeared from view again.

  Tox quirked an eyebrow at Grace. “Is she always like that?”

  “Drunk at noon? Not really.”

  Pastor said, “She’s not drunk.” A pause while he scratched the dog on her head. “Is she?”

  Grace laughed then. “No.” Thank goodness.

  Pastor heaved a sigh. “I guess I’ll take this one down to the pound. I’d keep her myself but I promised Mrs. Jacobs I’d never bring home anything with fur that wasn’t in the shape of a coat. It’s too bad. She’s a nice pup.”