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He went into the connecting room, the “great room,” the men called it because of its size. There was a big screen television on its last legs, several couches-all of which had seen better days-a scarred but functional dining room set, and their pride and joy-a pool table.

  “Hey!” he called out. “Who’s cooking lunch?”

  The two on-duty men watching soap operas didn’t budge.

  The two playing pool kept up their game. Through the open window he could plainly see two more men standing outside where they’d just finished washing their rigs.

  No one answered, or so much as glanced his way.

  Dax wasn’t insulted, he knew all too well why he was being ignored. They had a tacit agreement. It wasn’t necessarily a fair one, but it was simple.

  He who got hungry first, cooked.

  The last one to eat cleaned up.

  Most people thought firefighters ate so fast because they were always trying to keep one step ahead of the fire bell. Not true.

  They just didn’t want to do dishes.

  “So nobody’s hungry,” he said dryly.

  Nobody moved.

  Of course not. If they answered in the affirmative, then they’d have to cook. If they said no, then they couldn’t eat whatever he cooked.

  It was tricky, and if he’d been in a more generous mood, he’d have better appreciated the humor. But he had no humor left. “Damn,” he muttered and turned back to the kitchen. The laughter that broke out behind him made him swear even more colorfully.

  But he cracked the refrigerator open again. He’d lost fair and square.

  A nap might have better suited him than preparing spaghetti sauce for the entire gang, but he was stubborn as well as hungry. Cranking up the radio on the counter, he chopped up a green pepper and tried to stay in the moment.

  Tried to stay out of his past.

  Tried to stay out of the part of his brain that hurt.

  The loud, hard, pulsing rock blaring from the radio helped. So did all the food he popped into his mouth instead of into the pot.

  But he kept coming back to one thing…Amber had asked him for more time, for some space. It was all she’d ever asked of him.

  And he hadn’t given it.

  The selfishness of that, the pure greed of it, had him stopping in his tracks, a forgotten knife in one hand, a mushroom in the other.

  When had he become so rigid, so unyielding?

  Disgusted with himself, he chopped more vegetables with a vengeance, nearly slicing off a finger.

  He would give her what she wanted, and while it was all fresh in his mind, he yanked the telephone off its hook and dialed her number to tell her so.

  When he got her machine, he hung up, frustrated. Fine. She could have her damn time. But he wouldn’t let her go. Couldn’t let her go.

  His ears played a cruel trick on him then. He thought he could hear her voice. To block it out, he cranked up the volume on the radio.

  He could still hear her.

  Another vicious crank of the dial helped, barely. His ears rang. The floor vibrated with the beat. The windows rattled.

  In unison, he heard the guys bellow for him to lower the volume, but he ignored them and had to smile at the irony.

  He could still hear her.

  One last touch to the radio and he had the volume maxed out.

  Ahh, he thought…peace. Finally. Maybe now he could get some damn food into his gnawing gut.

  Satisfied, he grabbed a tomato and froze.

  She was standing there, or at least he was dreaming that she was. Rubbing his eyes ruthlessly, he blinked the gritty exhaustion away and looked again.

  She was still there in the doorway of the kitchen, hands braced on the jamb on either side of her as she looked at him with an unreadable expression on her face.

  His heart stopped, then kicked in again with a painfully slow thudding. The clothes she wore were unlike her, softer, more feminine, and incredibly, unwittingly sexy. He couldn’t tear his gaze away. The long, flowing, flowery dress was tight in the bodice and flared gently at her hips before falling nearly to her ankles. There was a row of tiny, dainty buttons down the front, starting at the mouthwatering spot just between her full breasts.

  She’d never looked so lovely.

  God, he wished she was his.

  15

  D AX TOLD HIMSELF to cool it. She was probably here to go over something about Taylor, and he wondered how he would live through all the time he’d vowed to give her.

  She sent him a tentative smile and raised her eyebrows at the music.

  With a flick of his wrist, he turned off the radio. The silence was nearly as deafening as the music had been. “Taylor-?” he asked.

  “She’s fine,” Amber said quickly. “She’s with your mom.”

  He nodded, then said gruffly, “I miss her.”

  She clasped her hands together, but other than that, remained perfectly still. “I know. I…wanted to talk to you.”

  Great. How was he going to keep from grabbing her and holding on tight? He realized he still held the knife and a tomato, and he set them both down, wiping his hands on a towel because he had to keep them busy. “I’m making lunch.”

  A smile flickered across her firm, unpainted mouth. Had he ever seen her without lipstick? Yes, he remembered with a violent reaction in his lower body. She’d been sleeping in his bed at the time, a satisfied, cat-in-cream smile on those naked lips.

  “I didn’t realize you could cook,” she said. “Or that you’d…” She trailed off, her voice steady enough, but he could see the telltale sign of a blush creeping up her cheeks.

  Interesting. She didn’t seem so in control now. “Or that I’d what?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “Look so good doing it.”

  Unfortunately, sweet as that admission was, it only made his ache more pronounced.

  The awkward silence settled again and Amber took a step toward him. “I’m sorry to intrude, but I haven’t been able to reach you.”

  “Yeah. About that…”

  “Don’t be sorry,” she said quickly. “I know you’ve been busy.”

  Which wasn’t exactly the reason he hadn’t called or gone by to see her. “Yes, I’ve been busy,” he said carefully, stepping around the counter to face her. “But I’ve also been a jerk. I should have gotten back to you, but frankly, I was too busy being selfish.”

  “Selfish?” She laughed at that. “You? I doubt that, Dax.”

  “I promised not to push, I promised to be patient, and I couldn’t do either. I can do better. I can give you your time and space.”

  “Dax-”

  “But I can’t let you go. You should know that up front.”

  “It’s okay-”

  “No, dammit, it’s not.”

  “Dax-”

  “Let me finish. For the first time in my life I broke a promise and I’m sorry for that, so sorry.”

  “Oh, Dax.” Misery crossed her face. “Don’t apologize, that’s not what I came here for. I wanted to tell you…” She looked at her feet for a long moment before lifting her head again. “I have come to a conclusion,” she said in a businesslike tone.

  He swallowed. “That sounds bad.”

  “No.” The sophistication fled. “It’s just so much harder to tell you than I imagined, and truthfully, I imagined it being pretty tough.”

  His heart sank. “You can tell me anything, Amber. You know that.”

  Clearly filled with pent-up energy, she slowly walked the room. “You’ve been in my head a long time now, Dax.”

  “Uh…okay.” That was good, right?

  Her back to him, she studied the wall, which was covered in pictures. The guys had been pinning up photos ever since the station first opened ten years before. There were families, girlfriends, boyfriends, kids…an entire ten years worth of living.

  What did she see? he wondered. What did she feel? He wished he knew.

  “I know it seems silly,” she said to the wall. “To tell you