"It won't be the first time," Annabel said, "for either of those things. A little danger and dirt never worried me."
And if they had seen some of the harrowing situations in which she had found herself as a firefighter, they would have known she was telling the truth. Running risks had never bothered her. She had risked life and limb dozens of times over the years, first battling blazes as a member of the SFFD and later parachuting into some of the worst forest fires in the country as a smoke-jumper.
But then, suddenly, she thought once again about Cole Brady, and she realized she might be risking more than life and limb this time.
She might be risking her heart.
****
Cole knew he couldn't put this off any longer. He had stopped by the Olympia Club on the way home and had a drink with the Commodore. The old tycoon had sensed immediately that something was bothering him.
"Bull by the horns," the Commodore had advised without prying into the details of whatever had Cole worried. "Face it head-on. That's the best way."
Cole knew the Commodore was right. Still, he had gone home, taken a bath, shaved, and put on fresh clothes. Then and only then, after there were no more mundane chores to be taken care of, had he telephoned Mrs. Noone's house.
Lucius answered, as Cole had known he would. "Hello, Lucius," he said quickly. "This is Cole Brady. Is Miss Annabel there?"
"Yes, she is, sir, if you'd care to wait just a moment—"
"No," Cole broke in. "That's all right. Just give her a message for me if you would."
"Certainly, sir," Lucius murmured.
"Tell her. . ." Cole took a deep breath. "Tell her that I would like to call on her this evening."
"Of course, sir."
"Thank you, Lucius. I'll see you later." Cole hung up.
A second later, he grimaced. He hadn't given Lucius a time at which Annabel could expect him. He hadn't even waited to make sure that she didn't already have plans for the evening. That was what came of being raised by a businessman and then spending most of his adult life around a bunch of rough-and-tumble firemen. He had missed out on some of the social graces.
Well, he would just have to hope that Annabel would be there to receive him when he arrived. Now that he had girded up his courage, he wasn't about to delay any longer than necessary. He put on his hat and left the house on Russian Hill, striding purposefully toward the nearest cable car stop.
Twenty minutes later, he was approaching the house in Pacific Heights. The three-story mansion was brightly lit. The March evening was cool, almost chilly, and the usual fingers of fog were creeping along the streets and folding around the hills. Cole opened the gate and went up the short walk to the porch. He leaned his thumb on the pearl button beside the door and heard the bell ring inside.
Lucius opened the door almost immediately. A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of the butler's mouth, slightly relieving his usually grim expression. He bowed Cole into the foyer, murmuring, "Won't you come in, sir?" As he straightened, he added, "May I take your hat?"
Cole snatched his hat off and thrust it into Lucius's hands. "Thanks," he said. "Is Miss Annabel. . . ?"
"In the parlor, sir. She is expecting you."
"Very good," Cole said hollowly. He turned toward the parlor as Lucius moved off with silent steps.
Cole ran a hand over his hair. Even though he had brushed it earlier, it sometimes tended to stick up at strange angles. He squared his shoulders a couple of times, tugged on the lapels of his coat to straighten it, looked down at the toes of his shoes and hurriedly buffed the dust off them by rubbing each one against the back of his trousers on the opposite leg. That done, he hurriedly checked his cuff links and the stickpin on his tie. Everything seemed to be in place.
With his heart hammering, Cole stepped forward through the arched entrance, turning so that he could see the rest of the parlor. Annabel was sitting in an armchair near the fireplace, her hands folded in her lap. She came smoothly to her feet and smiled at him as he entered the room.
He was vaguely aware that she was wearing a dark green dress with a high neck and sleeves that buttoned tightly at the cuffs. Around her throat was a choker of black silk with a tiny gemstone set in its center, but Cole paid only scant attention to the necklace. Instead he looked in surprise at her hair—what was left of it.
Cole had never been overly concerned with the way women wore their hair. As a matter of fact, he had never been concerned with such things at all. But even he realized that it was odd for a woman to have her hair cut so short. He wasn't really surprised, he realized. Ever since he had met her, Annabel had been surprising him, so that by now he was growing accustomed to her doing things that were out of the ordinary.
"You don't have to stare," she said sharply.
Cole gave a little shake of his head. He hadn't realized he was staring. "Sorry," he muttered.