Clearly, Annabel was a woman who had some experience in the ways of the world, he mused as he looked across the table at her and watched her eat. To his surprise, Cole found that this didn't bother him in the least. Some of his friends and acquaintances who considered him straitlaced, even stodgy, probably would have been surprised at his tolerance. Cole didn't care about that, either. He knew when something was right.
He and Annabel were a match, and that was all that mattered, he told himself. He loved her, and she loved him. What had happened in the lives of either one of them before they met was of absolutely no importance.
And it was probably a good thing he felt that way, he thought, because he really knew very little about her. Her life before she had fainted on that ferry dock in Oakland was pretty much a mystery.
She would tell him when she was ready, he decided. Until then, well, maybe a little mystery was a good thing.
"What in the world are you thinking about?" she asked, her fork poised halfway to her mouth with a bite of pancake on it. "You look like you're pondering the mysteries of the universe."
"Something like that," Cole said. "You know, this food is really very good."
"Thank you," Annabel said. "I've had more experience with breakfast than I have with dinner." She glanced at the windows in the dining room. Bright midday light came in through the gauzy curtains. "Even though it's sort of late for breakfast, I suppose."
"Nothing wrong with that. When you're a fireman, you get used to eating meals at different times of the day."
"I know."
So they were back to that again, he thought. He laid his fork aside and said, "We're going to have to talk about what happened yesterday."
"You mean last night?"
"I mean yesterday, in Golden Gate Park. You could have been badly hurt . . . or worse."
Annabel shrugged. "I'm fine. You saw for yourself how well I did in the competition, and I may have saved that man's life—not to mention yours. Nothing else happened.
"Well, nothing too bad, assuming that Patsy's all right, and I'm sure he will be."
"I'm not talking about Patsy or competitions or some fellow choking," Cole said. A part of him wished the subject hadn't come up. But he supposed this discussion had to take place sooner or later. "I'm talking about you. You can't take any more chances like that."
"I can't?" she echoed. "Why not?"
"Because . . . because I love you, blast it!"
Annabel threw back her head and laughed, though she didn't really sound amused. "And what about you?" she demanded. "You risk your life every time you answer a fire call, and I love you. Are you going to give up being a fireman just because you and I are together now?"
He frowned. "I've always been a fireman:"
Annabel grasped the edge of the table and leaned forward. "So have I," she said.
Cole closed his eyes and massaged his temples. The situation was deteriorating, and there didn't seem to be anything he could do to stop it. But if he didn't do something, Annabel was liable to get mad and leave, and he didn't think he could stand that . . .
"I'll speak to Lieutenant Driscoll again," he heard himself saying. He lifted his head and met her gaze squarely across the table. His voice grew even more firm as he went on, "I'll tell him that unless the department hires you, I'll be turning in my resignation."
She sat back, her eyes widening in surprise. "You . . . you'd do that?" she asked in a half-whisper. "Why?"
"Because it's what you want," he said simply, "and I love you. I want you to be happy, Annabel."
Even as he spoke the words, he found that he meant them. If she joined the fire department, he would worry about her constantly. But that was a part of life, he realized, a part of loving someone. People had to take their own risks. He had fallen in love with Annabel Lowell, and that meant he loved everything about her, even the more. . . unusual. . . aspects of her personality.
"You'd do that for me?"
"Of course."
Annabel took a deep breath. "Don't say anything to Lieutenant Driscoll. Not yet, anyway."
"What?" She had taken him by surprise yet again.
"I said, don't say anything to the lieutenant. I have to think about this."
"Well . . . all right If you're sure."
"I’m sure," she said decisively. She reached across the table and took hold of his hand. "But, Cole . . . thank you. Thank you so much."
He wasn't exactly sure what she was thanking him for, but he thought he had enough of an inkling to know that the thing to do now was smile and nod and keep his mouth shut That seemed to have the desired effect, because Annabel said, "When do you have to be at the firehouse?"
"Not until three o'clock this afternoon."
"Good." Her eyes twinkled with a mischievous passion. "Then we've got plenty of time to finish breakfast and go back upstairs."
Cole smiled and reached for his fork.
****