The Fireman's Ready-Made Family. Jules Bennett
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wanting her to look good at his side and remain silent. But, gone was that quiet, reserved, perfectly-coiffed woman. Now Marly kept her long blond hair in a ponytail, downplayed her voluptuous chest and wore little to no makeup. This was the real Marly Haskins.
“Did you need anything else?” she asked, ready to get out from under his questioning gaze.
Drake shrugged one shoulder. “Just wondering why you look so sad.”
Taken aback by his abrupt, imposing question, Marly shook her head. “I’m not sad. I mean, I’m sad for Jeremy and his family, but that’s all.”
Reaching out, Drake slid a thumb beneath her eye. “No, you’ve got shadows and there’s sadness there.”
Swatting his hand away, Marly stepped back. “You don’t know me, so I’d appreciate if you didn’t analyze me.”
Drake raked a hand over his closely cropped dark hair. “My apologies. It’s second nature to worry. I just wondered if you were okay.”
Was she okay? Far from it. Was she going to spill her heart to this charming stranger? Absolutely not.
But, oh, how she wished she had someone she could open up to. It was so hard being a single mother in the best of times, let alone when trying to keep her abusive ex from discovering where she was living and trying to remain strong and put up a cheerful front for strangers who had no clue the hell she’d endured.
She couldn’t focus on Drake or his charms. She needed to concentrate on getting her life back in order and setting a stable foundation for her and her daughter. No room for a handsome stranger with vibrant blue eyes and a killer body. Those two qualities meant nothing in the long run.
Drake reached back and pulled out his wallet, producing a business card. “My cell is on there.”
As she slipped the card from his grasp, her fingertips slid across his—the briefest of touches, but enough to have her pulling back. She hadn’t touched a man in any way since leaving her husband. Her patients were all children and she’d made a point to stay clear of men at least until her mental state returned to normal.
Scars weren’t always just on the outside.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asked, brows drawn in as he leaned closer.
Great, now he was seriously concerned about her.
Forcing what she hoped was a convincing smile, Marly nodded. “Fine. Just thinking about Jeremy.”
That answer seemed to pacify the chief as he pulled his keys from his other pocket. “Call me anytime. If I can’t talk, I won’t answer, but leave a message.”
Marly nodded, still eager for him to be on his way.
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he said.
Yeah, that was what she was afraid of. Each time she saw him her heart would speed up and she’d find herself drawn deeper and deeper into his appeal. That type of mentality was exactly what had gotten her in trouble to begin with.
As Drake walked out of the cheerily painted pediatric unit, Marly couldn’t help but watch him go. Those broad shoulders, that uniform, those dark forearms...Drake St. John was all man and all powerful.
But whatever fluttery feeling she got from being around him would just have to be ignored, because no way would she ever get involved with another man—especially one so sexy and powerful. That combination nearly killed her once before.
Confident that the pretty nurse would notify him if Shawn or Amy needed anything, Drake felt a sliver of satisfaction. Marly, with her wide, chocolate doe eyes, may be leery of him, but he had to assume she’d keep her promise.
He mentally cursed himself for reaching out to her. Good Lord, she’d think he was some type of creep. But he’d seen fear spread through those beautiful eyes of hers when he neared, felt her stiffen beneath his touch.
Drake figured he intimidated her, which was a shame, but he couldn’t figure out why. Someone or something had hurt her. The protector in him wanted to keep her safe, as strange as that may sound, considering he barely knew her.
He also couldn’t figure out why he kept finding himself thinking about her when he’d leave the hospital. He’d seen her a total of three times—she was fairly new in town, according to all the chatter—but other than that, she was a total stranger he knew nothing about.
Well, he’d known when he’d stepped closer to her earlier that she’d smelled like strawberries; he knew she had a gentle, patient bedside manner; and he knew she was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. With her long blond hair, dark eyes and creamy skin, Marly was a stunner, and he’d never even seen an ounce of makeup on her.
He’d not felt a pull toward another woman in over a year. Not since the day his fiancée had died. He never thought he’d feel for anybody again. In his defense, he’d even been on a couple dates since then, but nothing had ever come of them.
There was something pulling him toward Marly. Whether it was her underlying vulnerability or just the woman in general, he truly had no idea. But he knew he couldn’t ignore it, either.
Drake pulled from the hospital parking lot, but before he went to the station, he swung by the courthouse to check on the status of the budget. Granted, the official meeting was tomorrow, but Drake knew the good ol’ mayor already had some sort of clue as to what was going on.
Drake mounted the steps, waving to a few city workers as they exited the old historic building. Quickly making his way to the third floor, Drake went in and greeted the elderly secretary, who had been the smiling face of this office for the past forty years. No matter the mayor, Betty May Allen was the right-hand woman. That woman probably held more secrets than the Pentagon.
“Chief St. John.” She beamed, sliding down her reading glasses to dangle off the pearl chain. “What can I do for you?”
“Is he in?” Drake asked, nodding toward the closed door.
With the frosted glass and large block lettering, Drake couldn’t see.
“He is. You don’t have an appointment, do you?” she asked.
“No. I’ll just be a minute if he’s free.”
Betty May slid from behind her L-shaped desk and walked to the door, easing it open a crack. Her silver hair bounced as she nodded and spoke, but he couldn’t make out what she was saying.
Turning with her signature smile, Betty May gestured as she opened the door wider. “Go on in, Chief.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
Drake closed the door behind him as he took in the overweight, half bald, half comb-over man behind the large mahogany desk. The man looked every bit the part of a small-town mayor. Too bad he didn’t play the part like one.
“What can I do for one of my city’s finest workers?” Mayor Tipton asked, easing back in his chair hard enough to cause very questionable creaks.
Was it too much to hope the jerk would tip the chair too far and fall backward?
Gripping the back of the leather chair across from the desk, Drake leveled the man’s gaze, refusing to return the smarmy smile. “How’s the budget looking? Are we going to be able to bring my men back on board?”
Tipton blinked. “The budget meeting is tomorrow.”
Drake never did like a man who couldn’t just answer a question straight-out. And he’d certainly never liked this lazy, selfish mayor. He hadn’t voted for the man, and he sure as hell hated working under him.
“I’m sure you have some idea,” Drake said, clenching the chair and trying to rein in his patience, as he had for several months now. “My department is suffering, and