politeness and no warmth whatsoever. In the course of her job, Lise often visited schools, and rather prided herself on her rapport with children. But whatever her gifts in that direction, they weren’t working today, she thought unhappily, wondering why it should matter so much that a small, blue-eyed girl should rebuff her.
It was a relief when Judd got up and said casually, “I’m going to carry Lise’s gear downstairs, Emmy, and drive her home. Maryann’s in the kitchen and I’ll be back in a few minutes. Say goodbye.”
“Goodbye,” Emmy said, looking at Lise’s shoes rather than her face. “Thank you for coming.”
“You’re welcome,” Lise said, infusing her voice with genuine warmth. “It was nice to meet you, Emmy.”
Emmy, pointedly, said nothing. Lise trudged downstairs behind Judd. Standing in the gracious foyer, she asked, “Do you think I did any good?”
Judd said ruefully, “I very rarely know what my daughter’s thinking, and yes, I would suspect you did. You handled it beautifully, Lise, thanks so much…and now I’ll drive you home.”
Lise didn’t want Judd within fifty feet of her apartment. Not after the last time. “I have a couple of errands to run,” she said, “I’d rather get a cab. And I’m sure Emmy needs you more than I do. So she won’t get lonesome again.”
“Do you think I’m not blaming myself?” Judd said harshly. “Give me a break.”
“Angeline always complained about how much you were away.”
His lips tightened. “I’m sure she did.”
“Is there a phone nearby? For the cab?”
“You’re in an almighty rush to be out of here.”
She was; she was terrified he might touch her again, and the alchemy of his body transform her into a woman she scarcely knew. Then Judd took her by the arm, and Lise’s whole body tensed. He said tautly, “I have a proposal…and hear me out before you say anything. Emmy’s out of school for the next few days, it’s March break. I want to get her away from the house and the smell of smoke and all the repairs, so we’re going to Dominica—I have a property there. I want you to come with us.”
“Me?” Lise squawked. “Are you nuts?”
“I’m both sober and in my right mind,” Judd said curtly. “For one thing, I’d like you to be around in case the nightmares persist. Secondly, it’s a small way I can thank you for saving her life. And thirdly, you’re on sick leave and very obviously at a loose end. I could even add a fourth incentive. It’s March in Montreal—wouldn’t anyone rather be on a beach in the West Indies?”
Lise had never been south. Never lazed on a tropical beach or swum in a sea the color of turquoise. For a moment sheer longing to do something so irresponsible, so remote from her normal life, caught her in its grip. Palm trees. Papayas and mangoes. A holiday. A real holiday away from emergencies and sirens and the tragedies that inevitably went with the job. Away from weeping women, charred ruins, smashed cars on an icy highway. Away from the three or four men at the station who would never accept her as someone who could do the job as well as they, no matter how hard she tried. She was so tired of it all. Ten years’ tired.
A holiday with Judd.
How could she even be contemplating such a move? She was the one who was nuts. Trying to tug free, Lise said in a raw voice, “I can’t, it’s a ridiculous idea.”
“Give me one good reason why you can’t go.”
For a horrible moment Lise couldn’t think of one. “Emmy doesn’t want me around,” she blurted.
“She’d get over it.”
“I’d be using you.”
“You let me worry about that.”
“Judd, I can’t go! I’ve never in my life gone away with a man who’s a stranger and I’m not going to start now.”
“Come on, we met years ago, I’m not exactly a stranger.”
She stared up at him. He was smiling at her, a smile of such calculated charm that all her alarm bells went off. Judd was obviously expecting her to capitulate. In bed and out? she wondered, and heard herself say, “Anyway, there’s Dave.”
“There’s also the chemistry, Lise. Between you and me. The kind that starts conflagrations.”
Willing her knees not to tremble, Lise glared up at him. “Let’s have some plain talk here, Judd Harwood. I’ll spell it out for you. You’re quite a guy. Tall, dark and handsome nowhere near describes you. You’re sexy, rich and powerful, your smile’s pure dynamite and your body would drive any woman from sixteen to sixty stark-raving mad. Why wouldn’t I respond to you? I’d have to be dead in my grave not to. But it doesn’t mean a darn thing—I don’t even like you, for Pete’s sake. So please don’t feel flattered that I just about fell into your arms, it’s nothing to—”
Judd said flatly, “Great snow job, and I don’t believe a word of it.”
“That’s your ego talking!”
“Dammit, Lise,” he exploded, “there’s something about you that’s different. I don’t normally ask a woman I’ve spent less than three hours with to go away with me and my daughter. Especially my daughter. You can trust me on that one.”
“Whether I trust a single word you say is completely irrelevant. I’m not going to Dominica with you. I’m not going to the local grocery store with you. Now will you please call me a cab?”
Judd stood very still, looking down at her. Her eyes were as brilliant as emeralds in sunlight, and her face was passionate with conviction. She wasn’t playing hard to get, he knew that in his bones. But she was wrong. Dead wrong.
What was Dave to her? And what had Angeline told her over the years?
He couldn’t answer either question. All he could do was add two more. When was the last time a woman had said no to him? Or had turned down an all-expenses trip to a tropical paradise?
Never.
He didn’t like it one bit. So what was this all about? His bruised ego, as Lise had suggested?
He was damned if this was just a question of hurt pride. It had to be about more than that.
About more than the ache in his groin and his passionate hunger to possess her? His thoughts stopped short. He said tightly, “I’ll call a cab. If Emmy has more nightmares, will you come back?”
“If you’re in Dominica, I won’t be able to, will I?” Lise said, tossing her head.
The light through the tall windows caught in her hair, an alchemy of gold and copper. His body hardened involuntarily and with an impatient exclamation Judd turned away, taking his cell phone out of his pocket and dialing the nearest cab station. Four minutes, he was promised. So he had four minutes to persuade a stubborn, red-haired woman to change her mind. Casually he turned back to face her. “You’re right,” he said, “it was a crazy idea, I allowed my concern for Emmy to override my common sense. Sorry about that. Anyway, you must have been south before, lots of times.”
“No. How long before the taxi comes?”
“A couple of minutes. Come off it, Lise, you must have been to Bermuda or the Bahamas. Or at least to Florida.”
“The furthest south I’ve been is Boston and who do you think would take me on a romantic tryst to the tropics? The fire chief?”
Why not Dave? “You don’t need me telling you you’re a beautiful woman. So don’t pretend there haven’t been men in your life,” Judd said tersely.
“Sure there have been. They stick around until the first time I get called out on emergency and I’m gone for six hours. Or until my first string of night shifts when I come home exhausted at