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The elevator came. Nolie Lang stepped in, and he followed her. At least she was quiet. He’d expected her to be on him the moment they left the office, trying to convince him that this program of hers would work.
Apparently she’d nearly persuaded Samuel Henley. So Henley had leaned on the chief, and the chief had leaned on him. The pecking order at work…and he was caught in it. Either he volunteered for the Lang woman’s project or he wouldn’t be returning to active duty any time soon.
Nolie Lang didn’t look like a very formidable barrier. She was almost plain, with her tanned face free of makeup and her pale blond hair held back with a tie at the nape of her neck. Repressed, maybe that was the word. The only time he’d seen passion in those light blue eyes had been when she’d talked about her work.
Her work. She didn’t want Gabe Flanagan. She wanted a guinea pig on which to try out her theories.
Well, it wasn’t going to be him. He almost said so, but the elevator reached the garage level, and the few minutes it took to evade several people getting on while they got off was long enough to make him think before he spoke.
He wanted out of this business, but he couldn’t get out. So he had to convince the woman to let him off the hook. Nolie Lang was just another obstacle to his getting back to the work he was born to do. He’d go through her if he had to, but first he’d try getting her to cooperate with him.
Their feet echoed on the concrete floor of the parking level. She glanced at him.
“Is your leg bothering you?”
A flame of anger went through him that he’d let his guard slip, made hotter that she’d noticed.
“No.” That came out almost like a snarl, which was not the way to gain the woman’s cooperation. “It’s healing.”
“That’s good.” She walked briskly toward a dusty station wagon, apparently not concerned enough about his leg to slow down. Or maybe she took him at his word that he was all right.
“Look.” His voice halted her as she unlocked the wagon, her square, competent hand freezing on the handle. “Maybe we ought to talk. We both know Henley’s idea is a bad one.”
She surveyed him, her eyes expressionless. “I generally find that’s not a good thing to say to the man with the money.”
He hunched his shoulders. “That’s what the chief thinks, too. But that doesn’t mean this is going to work.”
“Maybe.” She swung the passenger door open and held it for him.
Resentment bubbled again as he swung himself inside. He didn’t like depending on other people to haul him around. The first thing that had happened after he’d had a seizure was the doctor pulling his driver’s license.
She rounded the car and got in. He swallowed the urge to rant at her. Think, don’t react, he commanded himself.
“What’s this for?” He tapped the mesh screen behind the front seat as she turned the ignition.
“Keeps the dogs from jumping in front.”
“I thought your animals were well-trained enough to help people. Surely they don’t misbehave in the car.”
If the jab bothered her, she didn’t show it. She just backed out and started down the winding concrete ramp.
“Sometimes I pick up strays.” She slowed as they reached the garage exit. “Which way?”
“Go right.” Okay, maybe annoying her wasn’t the best way of getting her on his side. “Look, you said it yourself. I’m not a good candidate for this project.”
Her cool profile didn’t tell him a thing about what she was feeling. “I only said that if you weren’t interested, this probably wouldn’t work well.”
“I’m not interested.” He fought the longing to shout the words at her. “I’m only doing this because the chief insisted, and he’s not a man you can argue with.”
He was also the man who held the power to decide whether Gabe went back on active duty or had to settle for a desk job. Or, worse, a disability retirement.
No. The denial burned in his brain.
“It seems to me we’re both stuck.” She brushed a strand of pale blond hair behind her ear. “You have to do what your chief says. I have to do what Henley says if I want to get my grant.”
“You could talk to him again. Tell him someone else would work out better.”
Her hands moved restlessly on the wheel, stroking it as if it were a pet. “He wants you.”
“Because of the publicity.” Pictures of him on the front page of the local paper, flanked by pictures of the two firefighters who’d died that day.
“I suppose even philanthropists want positive publicity. You’re a hero.”
The word dropped on him like acid. “Believe me, nothing is staler than yesterday’s hero.”
“Obviously, Samuel Henley doesn’t think so.” She slanted a sideways glance at him. “Why does it matter so much to you?”
The attack went under his guard, and for a moment he couldn’t speak.
“It doesn’t,” he said when he thought he could control his voice. “I’m just saying that the whole idea is futile. As I understand it, you need someone who can prove this seizure dog thing of yours works.”
“I already know it works.” There was that passion again, flaring in her eyes as she shot a look at him.
“Okay, bad choice of words. You need someone to show the foundation the value of it.” He leaned forward. “Turn right at the next corner.”
She took the turn onto Elm Street. Thanks to Dutch elm disease, the street was now lined with maples, but no one had suggested changing the name. The May sunshine had brought into full bloom the magnolia tree his mother had planted in the front yard.
“This one.” He nodded toward the sprawling brick two-story his grandfather had built for his expanding family.
The current generation filled it up, too. He tensed at the sight of the cars in the curving driveway. It looked as if the whole family was here.
She stopped the car and turned to look at him, apparently knowing he had more to say on the subject.
“I’m not the right person to prove the worth of your program.” He leaned toward her, intent on convincing her he was right about this. “And it’s not because I’m stubborn or uncooperative.”
A smile flickered on her face, the first one he’d seen. It showed him an unexpected pair of dimples in her cheeks that made her seem both younger and more vulnerable. “It’s not?”
“No.” He had to be sure she understood this. “This seizure-alert thing only works if the person actually has seizures, right?”
“Of course.” Her eyes were wary.
“Then I’m no good to you. Because I’m not going to have any more seizures.”
She looked at him steadily for a long moment, and he didn’t have the slightest idea if she bought it. Then she lifted a level eyebrow.
“Will your doctor confirm that?”
His fists clenched. “Take my word for it. I won’t be a help to you. So the sooner you convince Henley this isn’t going to work, the sooner we can both get on with our lives.”
It was a nice speech. Unfortunately Nolie Lang looked at him as if she didn’t believe a word of it.
The approach of a woman who was probably Gabe’s mother prevented Nolie from replying. Good timing, because almost anything she said would have led to an explosion on Gabe’s part.
Did Gabe have any idea how deeply into denial he was? Probably not, or he’d show some sign that he didn’t quite believe his own words.
What if he’s right? The insidious question slipped into her mind as she got out of the car. If Gabe’s injury had healed, she’d be in the unique position of trying to demonstrate her techniques on someone who would never need them. And Samuel Henley would have put a condition on his grant that she could never fulfill.
Head swimming, she pasted a smile on her face and turned to the woman who’d come to greet them.
“Gabe.” Mrs. Flanagan had a quick smile and a pat on the cheek for her son. The unconscious lovingness of the gesture grabbed Nolie’s heart.
The woman held out her hand. “You must be Ms. Lang. I’m Siobhan Flanagan. Welcome to our home.”
Nolie looked into eyes that were as deeply blue as Gabe’s, but far less guarded. A few lines on her fair skin spoke of life experience, but only a strand or two of gray accented her black hair. Again, like her son’s.
“Thank you. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Nolie shook hands, wondering a little. Gabe hadn’t called his mother, but she’d obviously known to expect them. That must mean the fire chief had called her, indicating a close relationship between them. She filed that fact away for later consideration.
“You come right on in.” Mrs. Flanagan linked her arm with Nolie’s. “We’re all eager to get to know you.”
All? Nolie took note of the cars lining the drive. “It looks as if you’re having a party. I can come another time.”
That actually brought a short bark of laughter from Gabe, following them up the walk. “No party. Just the usual crush of Flanagans.”
Mrs. Flanagan had a firm grip on her arm. Short of yanking herself free, she seemed to be stuck.
Gabe opened the front door, and a wave of sound hit her, taking her breath away. Apparently all the Flanagans were talking at once.
Gabe’s mother seemed to sniff the air. “Goodness, my stew.” She patted Nolie’s arm. “You’ll stay for supper with us. Don’t you run away until we have a chance to talk.”
She scurried off. She couldn’t know just how much Nolie wanted to run away.
Don’t be ridiculous. They can’t hurt you. She had to lecture herself on the subject of families now and then. Every family wasn’t like hers, after all.
And if she could gain the family’s cooperation, her work with Gabe might be considerably easier. So she’d do this.
People seemed to swirl through the huge living room and dining room that stretched the entire width of the house. She had a quick impression of comfortably overstuffed furniture and walls crowded with family photos—dozens of family photos.
Gabe was still at her side, and she could feel the solid strength of him through the brush of his arm against hers. She sought for something to say. “You have a big family.”
“You might say that. My parents have five kids, although sometimes it seems like more.”
“And you all live at home?”
Gabe’s eyes flickered with a touch of regret. “I have my own place. I moved home after the accident.”
She added that fact to her mental calculations of the dog who would be best for Gabe, always assuming he stayed with the program long enough to get a dog.
“I guess that seems odd, but my folks are old-fashioned.” He sounded slightly defensive. “They want their kids to live at home until they’re married.”
“Or longer.” The speaker must be one of Gabe’s brothers, since he had the trademark deep blue eyes and black hair. Probably in his mid twenties, he had an engaging liveliness to his face, and he carried a wiggling toddler under one arm. “I thought we’d never get Mary Kate out of the house.” He held out his hand to Nolie. “I’m Ryan.”
“The baby.” A red-haired woman arrived at his elbow. “I’m Mary Kate.” She started to shake hands with Nolie, then abruptly turned away to grab the toddler Ryan was dangling. “How many times have we told you not to hold Davy upside down? You want him to throw up on you? Come help me put a leaf in the table.”
They left before Nolie had a chance to say anything, even assuming she could have thought of something. She glanced at Gabe, to find him watching her with amusement.
“They’re a bit much, I grant you. Mary Kate’s the oldest, and the two red-haired hooligans are hers.” He nodded toward a boy and girl chasing each other. “I’m next, then Seth, then Theresa, then Ryan. The little guy Ryan was holding is Seth’s son, Davy. Don’t worry about remembering their names.”
Because she wouldn’t be around long enough for it to matter?
“I don’t want to impose.” What she wanted was to get out of this crowd and back to her quiet house. Alone. “I just needed to get a sense of what your home life was like so that I can choose an appropriate animal.”
“My mother would consider it an insult if you left now.”
He nodded to Siobhan, who was clinking a spoon on a glass. The signal sent her family scurrying to the dining-room table—a long walnut oval covered by a lace tablecloth.
She could guess that Gabe’s opinion didn’t match his mother’s. Still, she needed all the help she could get with the man. If she didn’t win him over—
She stopped that thought before it could take over. She managed a smile and let herself be piloted to a seat.
The man next to her was obviously Gabe’s father, and just as obviously the patriarch of the clan. He sat in a massive chair at the head of the table, watching benevolently as his family took their places.
He didn’t say anything, just waited as they quieted and clasped hands around the table. Before she quite knew how it had happened, Nolie felt her hands held firmly by Gabe’s father on one side and the sister she hadn’t been introduced to on the other—Theresa, she thought.
Mr. Flanagan led them in grace, a very faint Irish accent touching the words of the prayer as it rolled out. His Amen was punctuated by the clatter of dishes.
“Getting us all sorted out yet?” Gabe’s sister, Theresa, had a quick smile. “My father is Joe, and I’m Terry. I’m afraid we can be overwhelming at first glance.”
“And at second,” Ryan added from across the table.
“I think I’m getting there.” She glanced around, sorting out Mary Kate, her husband and children.
Terry grinned. “Mary Kate, Seth and I got Dad’s red hair and freckles, but Seth’s darkened when he grew up. Gabe and Ryan look like Mom.”
She nodded, wondering whether learning their names was of any use. If Gabe had his way, this could be the first and last time she met the Flanagans.
Seth was the solid, calm one, then. He sat next to the toddler, rescuing the teething biscuit the child dropped. “And Davy’s mother?”
Sorrow darkened Terry’s lively face. “She died shortly after he was born. Davy lives here with us.”
The sorrow touched her. “You must be very close.”
“We are that.” Gabe’s father had obviously heard her comment. “Every single one a firefighter, and proud of it.”
She blinked. “You’re all firefighters?”
“Well, not Siobhan. And not Mary Kate, now that she has a family. But her husband filled in for her, didn’t you, Kenny?”
