Read Online The Night Belongs to Fireman by Jennifer Bernard - Free Book Online Page A

Turkish rug, a large mahogany desk the size of a small ship, a comfortable-looking armchair arrangement, and that was about it. A closed door led to the rest of the guesthouse; that must be where the actual work got done.
    â€œHello?” he called.
    â€œOne minute!” A little thrill ran through him at the sound of Rachel’s voice. Uh oh. Thrills weren’t good. He hadn’t come here for thrills. Then what did you come here for?
    The door opened and there was his answer. She immediately filled his vision as if nothing else was present. Her thick, curly hair was held back at her neck with a clip, and she wore simple black pants and a tunic top with an embroidered neckline. He made a quick check. Yes, her eyes were exactly as he’d remembered, that deep, velvety purple like the heart of a pansy. Or was it a petunia. Anyway, it was the spark in her eyes that really got to him, and beyond that, the shadow of something sad.
    â€œFred the Fireman?” She looked astonished. “What are you doing here?”
    Good question . He shouldn’t be here. He should be sparring. Painting his sister’s apartment. Anywhere but here, pretending to need therapy for a dog that wasn’t even his.
    â€œIt’s Stan,” he said, tugging on Stan’s leash. “He’s been having some problems.”
    Her expression instantly transformed into one of concern. She came forward, crouched in front of Stan, and murmured, “Well, aren’t you a fine-looking dog? Will you let me pet you? Do you mind?”
    Since Stan was already enthusiastically butting his head against Rachel’s hand, the answer seemed clear. She looked surprised as Stan welcomed her caress. Fred took note of the small size of her hand, and the sure way she handled Stan. “He seems pretty happy to me. What sort of behavior is he exhibiting? And what’s his name again?”
    â€œStan.”
    â€œInteresting name for a dog.”
    â€œLong story, but Stan is short for Constancia. We couldn’t let him have a girl’s name, so we call him Stan.”
    â€œThat’s thoughtful, but dogs don’t have our ideas of gender-based nomenclature,” she said absently.
    Gender-based nomenclature . Huh. Fred found himself even more fascinated by her than he’d been at the accident scene. She was such an odd mixture of things, courageous and clearly intelligent on the one hand, but a little . . . flaky on the other.
    â€œSo what behaviors have you worried?”
    On the spot, Fred searched for something plausible. Clearly he hadn’t thought this through. Showing up with Stan was one thing; lying about him was another. “Well, he sleeps a lot. I’m worried that he might be depressed.”
    â€œHow’s his appetite?”
    â€œVoracious.” For some reason, the word, hanging between them, took on a sexual undertone. Fred hurried past it. “I thought maybe it’s a psychological thing. You know, childhood issues. I mean, puppyhood.”
    Narrowing her eyes at him, she offered Stan a treat, which he gulped down with his usual eagerness. “Have you noticed any limpness in his tail?”
    â€œLimpness?” Somehow, that sounded sexual too. “Um, no,” he answered in a slightly choked voice. “His tail is . . .” don’t say stiff . . . “not limp. He wags it a lot.”
    â€œIs he still interested in playing, chasing balls, that sort of thing?”
    Fred couldn’t answer. He needed to give his dirty mind a damn timeout.
    She rose to her feet and planted her hands on her slim hips. She had to be one of the most petite girls he’d ever met. “Are you making fun of me?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œStan doesn’t have any issues, does he? What’s going on here? Is there a reporter outside? Is this some kind of camera crew ambush, the fireman hero reunited with the girl he rescued?”
    â€œ What? No!”
    â€œI’ve