Hard to Resist

chapter TWO



ETHAN BACKED OUT of the room as quickly as he could. What was going on? Maybe he wasn’t a pretty boy like Tony, but he didn’t normally scare small children.

A nurse and two doctors rushed past him into the room, and as Ethan listened at the door, Samantha’s crying quieted. Muffled voices said something about Samantha associating a firefighter with the trauma of the fire. How had the child even recognized him? She couldn’t have gotten a good look at him in all that smoke, and she’d only seen his face for maybe a second as he’d passed her through the window. Perhaps she’d recognized his voice.

He waited a few more minutes, hoping Kat would come out of the room so he could apologize for upsetting her daughter. But she didn’t appear and he didn’t dare go back in. Exhaustion was catching up with him. He decided the best route for him was a strategic retreat, a soft bed and several hours of sleep.

He’d done what he’d set out to do. He’d made sure the woman and child were okay. He left his number with one of the nurses, so Kathryn could call when she was ready to reclaim her kitten, who was happily installed in his utility room with food, water and litter.

During training, Ethan had been told by a wise, old captain, now retired, that you should never look a fire victim in the eye. Your heart couldn’t go out to every single one or you’d tear yourself to pieces, he’d said. It was a lesson every rookie had to learn—toughen up or get very depressed.

But maybe it had to be learned through experience. Ethan hadn’t been able to avoid looking down into Kat’s beautiful dark eyes, so frightened, so trusting.

Was this how it would be? Would he feel this urge to involve himself in the lives of every person he helped during a fire? Yeah, he had a soft spot for anyone or anything in trouble. Given the mother he’d been born to, how could he not? He was still close to her, and he would not be able to look her in the eye if he walked away from someone in a jam.

He’d always thought wanting to help people was a good thing.

Reaching for the handle of the glass doors at the front of Methodist Medical Center, Ethan did a double take. Tony was strolling through the adjacent door, looking confident, a certain swagger in his step. He carried a small bunch of grocery-store flowers.

Ethan recognized the signs. His best friend was on the prowl. It had been a few weeks since Tony and his most recent girlfriend had called it quits, and he was a man who liked having a woman in his life. He got antsy when he was unattached, casting around for a likely candidate everywhere he went.

Once he found a woman he was interested in, it didn’t take much. A little flirtation, some flowers and wham. They usually fell as hard and fast as Tony did.

“Tony.”

Tony stopped, and did his own double take. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to let Kathryn Holiday know I had her kitten. What’s your excuse?”

“Hey, when a woman’s that good-looking, do you need an excuse?” But then his cocky grin faded. “She’s okay, isn’t she? And the little girl?”

“I saw them and they’re fine. But Tony…” Ethan thought it prudent to warn his friend. “The little girl wasn’t too happy to see me. She was apparently traumatized by the fire, and I reminded her of it. And since you were the one sticking needles in her…”

“I’ll go easy. I can at least say hi to Kat.”

Kat. The way Tony said it made it sound as if they were already close. “You aren’t going to hit on her, are you?”

“Any particular reason I shouldn’t?”

Ethan shrugged. It was awful having a best friend who looked like a Gap model and who could charm butterflies out of their cocoons.

“If you’ve got a thing for this girl,” Tony said, “she’s all yours. You know I never poach.”

Did he? Have a “thing”? Ethan wanted to tell Tony he wasn’t interested, that he’d visited Kat and Samantha at the hospital as a professional courtesy. But he’d have been lying.

* * *

SEVERAL HOURS LATER, Ethan was in his backyard, painting his garage. He’d promised himself that once his firefighter training was completed and he got assigned to a station, he would get to work on this eyesore. The two-story detached frame structure, with garage below and a small apartment above, had been added sometime in the 1940s. But unlike his hundred-year-old house, which he’d meticulously updated when he bought it a couple of years ago, the garage was a wreck. He’d replaced a few rotting boards and fixed a leaky roof, but he hadn’t done much in the way of cosmetic work.

His first step was to paint the garage charcoal-gray to match the house, so at least his neighbors would no longer have to look at the peeling walls. But he still had a lot of finishing work to do inside—painting, plumbing updates, a new kitchen. The wiring was old, but he’d examined it closely and deemed it safe, at least.

Ethan intended to get as much done as he could before he started his paramedic training. All Dallas firefighters had to get their paramedic certification. When the summer term started, much of his time off would be consumed by classroom instruction via computer. He didn’t relish sitting for hours at a terminal. But it was necessary, and in a few months he would begin clinical work, which would be more interesting.

“Lookin’ good.”

The voice came from over the fence. Tony, in the yard next door, wrestled with a new hedge trimmer. He attacked an overgrown row of privet with the critical eye of a sculptor.

Priscilla had bought the house next door when it had come on the market recently. She’d wanted to live closer to the station, which was by pure good fortune just a couple of blocks from Ethan’s. And since the large house was divided into two apartments, Priscilla had talked Tony into renting the downstairs unit from her.

Tony had never lived in a place that required yard work. But since moving here he’d discovered the joy of power tools—mowers, trimmers, blowers. He couldn’t be stopped.

Ethan ambled over to the fence. “So, how was it?”

“You mean Kat? It was fine. I gave her the flowers, and she thanked me for taking care of her daughter. I said you’re welcome. I said hello to the girl, and then I left.”

“You saw Samantha?”

“Yeah. Cute kid. She’s only a couple of years younger than Jasmine, but I can hardly remember Jas being that little.” Jasmine was Tony’s almost-nine-year-old daughter.

“Samantha didn’t…scream?” Ethan asked.

“Scream? Nah, she was talking a blue streak, though. Smart kid. I like her.” Tony buzzed at the hedge some more, trying to get an even top line.

“Hmm.” So Samantha hadn’t been afraid of the paramedic who’d poked and prodded her. Only the firefighter who’d dragged her to safety. Ethan didn’t really want to hear any more, but for some perverse reason he asked, “Did you get her phone number?”

“Samantha’s? I think she’s a little young for me.”

“Don’t be a doofus. Kat’s.”

“You’re the doofus. She doesn’t have one. All her phones got burned up.” He paused, then added, “Man, you already got it bad for her. Understandable—she’s hot.”

“Is that all you can think to say about her? She’s a lot more than just hot.” Yeah, Ethan was attracted. What red-blooded male wouldn’t be? But it was her softness, her vulnerability, that really drew him in. The thought that she and her little girl might be all alone in the world. The possibility that she might need him.

Did she really have a friend to stay with? Why was no one at the hospital with her? Did she have any money? Her apartment building was typical for the area. Certainly there were many worse places to live in Oak Cliff, which featured everything from million-dollar mansions to falling-down shacks. But it hadn’t been anything special, either.

He could walk away from a pretty woman. But a wounded bird—that was a different matter.

Tony chuckled. “Just ask her out. It’s not that big a deal.”

“I’ll see how it goes,” Ethan said noncommittally. He had no way of getting in touch with Kat. All he could do was wait until she contacted him about her kitten.

And who knew when that might happen?

* * *

DURING THE HOURS after the fire, Kat alternated between supreme confidence that she could handle everything and dismal despair that nothing would ever be the same again.

At least Samantha had a safe haven. She would stay with her dad this weekend. When Kat had called her ex and told him about the fire, he’d dropped everything and promised to come to the hospital as fast as he could.

Chuck Ballard was a good guy, a concerned father who was very involved in Samantha’s life. There’d never been any question about custody, though. Chuck, a bit old-fashioned, felt that a little girl belonged with her mother. But he always paid his child support on time, and he never missed a weekend visitation.

Even now that he was remarried and the father of a new baby, he made time for Samantha.

“Do I have to go stay with Daddy?” Samantha asked as they sat in front of the hospital in their borrowed clothes, waiting for Chuck to pick them up.

Kat pulled Samantha into her lap. “I thought you loved staying with your dad. Besides, he’s really worried about you. He’s promised to take the whole day off work and spoil you silly.” Kat had called Samantha’s school to let them know she would not be attending today, Friday. By Monday, Kat hoped things would be back to normal—or at least not quite so chaotic.

“I do. But I want you to come, too.”

“I wish I could. But I have to find us a new place to live. And I have to file a claim with our insurance, so we can buy new furniture and clothes and stuff.”

Samantha nodded, perking up slightly. “Can I get a princess bed like Krista’s?” Krista was her best friend at school, and she had a “princess” bed with a ruffled canopy.

“You can get any kind of bed you want.”

“Will you call me?”

“I will definitely call you. Okay?” She made another mental note: Replace cell phone. Her mental notebook was getting pretty crowded.

“Okay.”

Chuck’s familiar Subaru pulled up a few minutes later and Chuck leaped out. He was a nice-looking man, tall with a ready smile and thick, dark hair, receding slightly. The mere sight of him had once made Kat feel so safe. Now, she felt only gratitude that he was such a concerned father to Sam.

He scooped Samantha up in his arms. “Oh, Sammy, when I heard what happened I was so scared. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“The doctor said I was okay.”

Chuck reached for Kat and pulled her into a light embrace. “I was worried about you, too, kiddo.”

Kat put on a brave smile. “We’re fine. Right, Sam? She was very brave.”

“Do you have some place to stay?”

“I’m staying with Deb, my office manager. So if you can drop me at the office—”

“You’re working? After you lost everything in a fire?”

“I’m borrowing Deb’s car.”

“You should get some sleep first. You can crash at my place.” He said it as if the decision were made.

Kat took a deep breath. This was the main reason they’d gotten divorced. Chuck meant well—he didn’t have a mean bone in his body. But he liked taking care of Kat, which included making all her decisions for her. That had been fine when she’d been a seventeen-year-old orphan, scared out of her wits. But it wasn’t so fine now that she was a twenty-six-year-old businesswoman.

“No, Chuck, I really need to go to the office. I’ll be fine.”

He didn’t argue further, but he didn’t approve, either. She’d learned not to let that bother her. She did not need others’ approval to validate her. That was the core value of StrongGirls, a counseling and life-skills program for at-risk teen girls that was Kat’s brainchild, and now her livelihood and her passion. Kat had toyed with the idea of starting her own nonprofit before grad school, and she’d gotten serious about it a couple of years ago. She’d designed the curriculum and applied for grants. Last January, she’d opened her doors. Although it was a small program right now, Kat felt it was meeting the objectives she’d set. She was making a difference in young girls’ lives.

When they reached her office, a tiny storefront on busy Jefferson Street, she gave Samantha one final hug. “I’m proud of you, sweetie,” she said. “I know how tough this is, but you’ve been a real trouper.”

“Am I a StrongGirl?”

“My number-one StrongGirl.”

Chuck tried to give Kat some cash, and when she refused he pressed a wad of bills into her hands anyway. That was Chuck. Generous to the point of being pushy about it. But she knew his heart was in the right place. He’d done so much for her during their marriage. He’d been kind and giving and gentle—the exact opposite of the men she’d known growing up.

“I’ll pay you back,” she said.

“You don’t have to,” he said with a rueful grin. “But I know you will.”

* * *

IT WASN’T UNTIL Saturday that Kat had the chance to retrieve her kitten. She’d spent the previous day running around like crazy—having a locksmith make new keys for her car, contacting her insurance agent, buying some clothes, replacing her cell phone and Sam’s asthma meds. Then she’d crashed at Deb’s place—a tiny efficiency apartment—and had slept for ten hours straight, despite the fact that her “bed” was a hard sofa.

The next morning, feeling more like herself, she pulled from her pocket the crumpled scrap of paper she’d been carrying around like an amulet. As she dialed Ethan’s number, she felt a thrill of anticipation. She’d been savoring the thought of this moment ever since she’d been handed his note at the hospital.

“Kat. Is everything okay?” he asked the moment she identified herself. His voice was filled with concern, which made her stomach swoop, but of course he would worry about her. He’d saved her life and probably felt a responsibility to make sure he hadn’t saved it for nothing.

“I’m doing great,” she said with a bit more enthusiasm than she felt. “How’s Bashira?”

“He’s good. I gave him a bath to get the soot off his fur. His ears are kinda raggedy.”

The thought of a big, strong firefighter trying to bathe her little kitten touched her heart. She wished she could have seen it. “I bet he loved that. How many stitches did you require?”

He laughed, and she tingled at the sound of it. Deep and rich. “No stitches. Bashira’s my bud. He’s already taken over my house. You want me to bring him to you? I’m off today. Where are you staying?”

“You don’t have to bother,” she said. “I’ll come get him. Would ten o’clock be a good time?”

“Ten is good.” He gave her his address in Winnetka Heights, Oak Cliff’s historic district. She loved that area, with its tall trees and hundred-year-old houses. Some were showplaces, fixed up and painted in period colors, with thick carpets of green grass and bright flowers planted in front. Some were grim, sagging affairs, waiting for a loving owner to do the urban restoration and fill them with charm. She wondered which type Ethan lived in.

After hanging up, Kat found Deb staring quizzically at her. Deb was just out of college and a real go-getter. Blonde and bouncy, she was grateful to have a job that put her sociology degree to good use, and Kat was happy to have her organizational and fundraising skills for StrongGirls.

“Who was that?”

“The fireman who saved our lives,” Kat said, trying to sound casual.

“Is he cute?”

“Well…yeah. Not cute, exactly. Really handsome, but not movie-star pretty.”

“I figured he had something going for him.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because of how you sounded when you talked to him. Your voice got all mushy.”

“It did not!” Kat laughed. “You have a lot of imagination. I am grateful to this man. I admire the fact that he risks his life for strangers. That’s all.”

“Hmm, we’ll see.” Deb looked at the newspaper classifieds spread out over her coffee table. “How goes the apartment hunt? And no, I’m not anxious for you to leave. Take as long as you want.”

“Dismal. The rental market is tight right now, especially in my price range. I looked at a couple yesterday, but…” She shuddered. Grim was the only word that fit.

Her budget had been tight the past few months. She’d obtained the funding to start StrongGirls and was paying herself a modest salary. But it was less than she’d been making at her previous job as a school counselor, and she’d had to cut a few corners. She’d been lucky that her apartment manager liked her and hadn’t raised her rent since she’d moved in. But she was unlikely to find another apartment that nice for the price she’d been paying.

She would be cutting it close for a while. The settlement from her renters’ insurance would help, but it wouldn’t cover everything.

She dressed in a flowery skirt and matching blouse from her small stash of new clothes. It was the most feminine outfit of the bunch, the least businesslike, and she chastised herself for “gussying up” for Ethan. Was she trying to impress him? Was that it?

Yes, she was, and unfortunately she knew why.

White Knight Syndrome. When one person swooped in and rescued another from a life-or-death situation, the one who’d been rescued sometimes reacted with inappropriate feelings of affection for the rescuer. Sometimes those feelings were mistaken for love. She’d learned about it in one of her many psychology classes, and she’d also experienced the situation in real life.

All right, so it was natural for her to feel a bit gaga over strong, handsome fireman Ethan Basque. That didn’t mean she had to act on it. She had enough challenges to occupy her during the coming days and weeks. StrongGirls was expanding into its second phase, and what free time she had needed to be spent with Samantha. She did not have time for a man in her life.