Chapter 22
“This is Heather McNulty reporting to you live from the Coronado Central Fire Station on Braun Road, the polling station for today’s special bond election. I’m joined by Coronado School District Superintendent Priscilla Wolf.” The attractive brunette turned and smiled at Prissy, who stood beside her in front of the redbrick firehouse. “Dr. Wolf, I know you’ve been actively campaigning for the passage of the $17.4 million bond initiative ever since it was unanimously approved by the school board back in May. Now that Election Day is finally here, what would you like to say to any of our viewers who may be on the fence about voting in favor of the proposed bond? What can you tell anyone who may not be familiar with what’s at stake here?”
Prissy smiled warmly at the reporter. “Well, Heather, anyone who has lived here for a while can attest to the fact that Coronado is a growing community. Over the past five years alone, the district’s enrollment has more than doubled, creating a need to build more schools in which to educate our students. The proposed $17.4 million bond will help the district build a new junior high school and renovate existing schools by adding several classrooms to Coronado High and Cedar Creek Junior High. Additionally, the bond funds will be used to help the district maintain our current infrastructure by replacing roofs, boilers and waterlines, and upgrading parking lots, technology systems and fire alarms.”
“Speaking of fire alarms,” the reporter teasingly interrupted, “I understand that your husband was named Coronado’s Firefighter of the Year at Saturday’s ball, and at the end of his acceptance speech, he petitioned attendees to vote yes on the bond initiative. Did you put him up to that?”
Prissy laughed. “I wish I could take credit, but no, he did that all on his own.”
Heather grinned broadly. “Good man.”
“Yes.” Prissy smiled. “He is.”
“So getting back to the matter at hand,” Heather continued, “you’ve made a strong case for why the $17.4 million bond funds are necessary. But what do you say to residents who are worried about paying higher taxes if the bond proposal passes?”
“I’m so glad you asked, Heather. Let me take this opportunity to remind or inform viewers of the school board’s stated pledge that no tax rate increase will occur if voters approve the bond proposal. Let me repeat that, because it’s very important. The current tax rate will not change if the bond initiative is approved.”
“Sounds wonderful, but skeptics may be wondering how the school board can make such a promise?”
“Well, first of all, new homes and businesses are broadening the tax base in Coronado County. So that means that others who move into the county, as well as businesses that grow, will help share the load of the bond debt in years to come. Second, the funds will be issued over a period of five years, which spreads out the debt and ensures that taxpayers won’t be overburdened.”
Heather nodded approvingly. “Makes perfect sense to me. Okay, Dr. Wolf, I’m going to ask you to put on your prognosticator hat. Since the certified election results won’t be available until tomorrow morning, what’s your sense of the way things are going?”
Prissy smiled. “Well, I’ve been in and out of here all day, and I’m really pleased with the turnout we’ve had,” she said, gesturing to the steady flow of people filing into the fire station. “I’ve had the pleasure of speaking to many citizens who understand the important goals we’re trying to achieve through this bond initiative. I’d like to encourage everyone who hasn’t already voted to come out tonight and cast your ballot. The passage of this bond will support our school district’s academic progress and foster a better learning environment for our youth, who are our future leaders. So please come out tonight and show them your support.”
When she’d finished her earnest plea to viewers, Heather turned to the camera and said, “Well, folks, you heard it here from Superintendent Wolf. Your votes will determine the outcome of this crucial bond election, so come on down and exercise your civic duty—and enjoy some delicious refreshments while you’re at it. The polls will be open until eight, so you still have time to get here.” She flashed her sunny reporter’s smile. “Reporting to you live from the Coronado Central Fire Station on Braun Road, I’m Heather McNulty for KDCI News.”
After signing off and removing the microphone clipped to her lapel, Heather smiled warmly at Prissy and shook her hand. “Thank you so much for taking the time to talk to me, Dr. Wolf. I just want to say what a pleasure it is to meet you. I grew up in this county and graduated from Coronado High School, and since you took over as superintendent, I’ve heard nothing but great things about the improvements you’ve already made, and the work you’re doing for the school district and the community. Thanks for your vision and leadership.”
Prissy smiled, touched by the reporter’s heartfelt words. “Thank you so much, Heather. I really appreciate hearing that.”
Heather grinned. “I always strive to be objective in my reporting, but I’m sure it was pretty obvious that I support the bond proposal. So on that note, I’m heading inside to enthusiastically cast my yes vote.”
Prissy beamed with pleasure. “Wonderful. Thank you, Heather.”
As they headed inside the building together, Prissy was soon detained by several school board members who exuberantly congratulated her for all the hard work and effort she’d put into campaigning for the bond election. She was all but promised a raise if the $17.4 million bond proposal passed.
After conversing with the board members for a while, Prissy continued moving through the crowd, greeting school administrators, teachers, parents, neighbors and people from all walks of the community who’d come out to vote.
She made her way to a table near the back of the hall, where Gayle and Roxanne were serving refreshments that had been generously donated by the wives of the firefighters whose husbands were assigned to this station, which had been chosen because it was the largest in town.
When Prissy reached the refreshment table, she saw that it was laden with even more food than before—homemade cakes, cookies, pumpkin pies and banana bread, as well as coffee, hot apple cider and hot chocolate.
Gayle beamed at her. “Isn’t this a great turnout?”
“Yes,” Prissy smilingly agreed, turning to watch as more people streamed through the main doors and were directed to the area that had been cordoned off for the voting booths. “It’s a wonderful turnout.”
“It sure is,” Roxanne pronounced, surveying the crowd. “I have to admit that I had my doubts when you first told me that you’d persuaded the school board to schedule the bond election for the week before Thanksgiving. Since most folks would have just voted in the presidential election two weeks earlier”— She rolled her eyes at the reminder of Ronald Reagan’s recent landslide victory —“I just figured they’d be less inclined to come out to the polls again so soon. But, boy, was I wrong. Holding the election this week was a stroke of genius, Prissy. Your bond issues didn’t get lost in the shuffle of national politics, and since people feel more relaxed and charitable around the holidays, they’re more likely to vote in favor of the initiative.” She grinned at Prissy. “Brilliant strategy, woman.”
“It was also her idea to serve refreshments and bring Sparky the Fire Dog for the kids.” Gayle gestured around the crowded hall. “These people look like they’re at a holiday social instead of a polling station. I’m betting that some folks who might have shown up to vote against the bond probably took one look at this festive atmosphere, saw the children playing with Sparky the Fire Dog, and changed their votes to yes.” Gayle grinned proudly. “Is my boss awesome or what?”
Prissy laughed, shaking her head at the two women. “Thanks for the accolades, but if you ladies heap any more praise on me, my head’s gonna get so inflated that I’ll float up, up, up and away from here.”
Gayle and Roxanne laughed.
For the next half hour, Prissy helped serve refreshments while chatting with voters and answering more questions. When Sparky the Fire Dog wandered over—Jake had graciously consented to don the costume on his day off—Prissy posed for pictures with him, then snapped photos of him with grinning children and their parents.
About the time she was feeling totally relaxed, she looked up and saw Stan sauntering through the entrance.
Her heart lurched.
Since he’d just gotten off from a late shift, he still wore his blue uniform and black boots, and he had a toothpick dangling lazily from a corner of his mouth.
Pulse thudding, Prissy watched as his dark gaze scanned the crowd before homing in on her with that unerring focus that always stole her breath.
When their eyes connected, his expression softened, one corner of his mouth lifting in a small smile.
Prissy smiled back.
Following the direction of her gaze, Gayle whistled appreciatively. “About time a hot firefighter showed up here.”
“Hey!” Jake protested, his voice muffled behind the humongous dog head he wore. “What am I? Chopped liver?”
Gayle raked him with an amused glance. “You’re dressed like an overgrown Dalmatian.”
“Which means I’ve got an even bigger tongue,” he quipped suggestively.
“Hey, hey, none of that!” Prissy laughingly protested.
“Yes,” Roxanne humorously scolded, “have you forgotten that there are children around?”
Jake chuckled sheepishly. “Sorry.”
“Mmm,” Gayle hummed, eyeing him with newfound interest.
Prissy watched as Stan made his way through the crowd, smiling, shaking hands and briefly conversing with different people who stopped him. When he finally reached the refreshment table, he exchanged friendly greetings with everyone before leaning down to press a soft kiss to Prissy’s mouth.
“Hey, hey, none of that,” Jake teased, mimicking Prissy’s admonition to him.
Drawing away from his wife, Stan narrowed his eyes at Jake. “Don’t you have some children to entertain, rookie?”
Everyone laughed as Jake made an exaggerated show of hanging his big floppy-eared head and shuffling off to do as he’d been told.
As a group of people wandered over to help themselves to refreshments, Stan and Prissy stepped away from the table to have some privacy.
They stood without speaking for several moments, Stan’s eyes roaming across Prissy’s face in a way that reminded her that they hadn’t seen much of each other over the past two days. She’d worked late yesterday evening. By the time she came home, Stan had to leave for his night shift, giving her a quick update on Maddox’s improving condition before he’d headed out the door. Prissy had slept poorly for the second night in a row, her thoughts veering erratically between the bond election and the shaky state of her marriage.
“How was your day?” she and Stan asked each other at the same time.
“You first,” Prissy prompted softly.
“My day was uneventful.” His eyes glinted with humor. “I’m sure yours was anything but that.”
Prissy smiled faintly. “I’ve been busy.”
“I know that’s an understatement.” Stan glanced around the crowded room. “Looks like a great turnout.”
She nodded. “Let’s hope that translates into the right votes.”
“I’m sure it will, but if you’d like, I can go stand at the door, fold my arms across my chest and stare down anyone who even looks like they might not be on our side.”
Prissy laughed, envisioning how easily her six-foot-five, two-hundred-forty-pound husband could intimidate any voter with just a scowl.
“Um, yeah, that won’t be necessary,” she said teasingly. “Besides, I’ve already heard from a number of people who showed up tonight because of the announcement you made. So you’ve done more than enough to help the cause, Lieutenant Wolf.”
Stan grinned, giving her a lazy salute. “Glad to be of service, ma’am.”
Prissy chuckled, enjoying their playful banter more than anything she’d experienced in days. Stan must have felt the same way, because his expression softened and he murmured, “I’ve missed you.”
Prissy’s throat tightened. “I’ve missed you, too,” she whispered.
They stared at each other.
Stan said, “I hope we can—”
Suddenly they were interrupted by school board president Boyd Dewhurst, who was accompanied by a news reporter who wanted to interview Prissy outside for the late evening broadcast.
“Sure,” she consented with a bright smile, then glanced apologetically at Stan. “I’ll see you later.”
He smiled faintly. “Take your time. I’ll be here.”
Prissy was halfway across the room with her boss and the reporter when she saw a beautiful, long-haired woman emerge from one of the voting booths.
With a start, Prissy realized it was the woman from the ball.
Dr. Gilliard.
As she stared, the doctor was joined by a handsome older couple who could have been her parents. The threesome started toward the main doors, laughing and chatting companionably.
Suddenly Dr. Gilliard glanced around and met Prissy’s gaze.
They stared at each other.
After several seconds, the doctor’s gaze shifted past Prissy.
When Prissy glanced over her shoulder, she saw what—who—had caught the other woman’s attention. Wearing an infectiously boyish grin, Stan was crouched down talking to a group of beaming children while their equally captivated mothers looked on.
As a wave of possessive pride washed over Prissy, she turned back to arch a brow at Dr. Gilliard.
The woman met her gaze, the barest hint of a smile curving her mouth.
As the fine hairs lifted on the back of Prissy’s neck, Dr. Gilliard briefly inclined her head, then turned and left with the older couple.
“Isn’t that right, Dr. Wolf?”
Belatedly realizing that her boss and the reporter had been conversing the entire time, Prissy plastered on a smile and smoothly concurred, “That’s right, Dr. Dewhurst. I couldn’t agree more.”
By ten o’clock, the fire station was mostly deserted.
All the votes had been counted and collected by the county election officials, who would publicly announce the results tomorrow. The poll workers and volunteers had left, along with the school board members who’d hung around to make speeches and celebratory toasts once the polls officially closed. At Prissy’s adamant insistence, Roxanne had gone home to make sure her husband had put the kids to bed, while Gayle and Jake had departed together, walking so close that the sides of their legs brushed.
Only Stan and Prissy remained behind to finish cleaning up. When she told him to go home and check on the boys, he flatly refused, insisting that he’d promised to lock up the firehouse, and there was no way in hell he’d leave her there alone at that time of night.
As they worked in silence, a heavy thunderstorm swept through the area, causing the overhead lights to flicker intermittently.
As Prissy tossed leftover refreshments into the last of the trash bags, she stole covert glances at her husband, who was cleaning the black-and-white linoleum floor with a dust mop. One of the advantages of being married to a firefighter was that he wasn’t averse to doing domestic work. Stan and his crew members, like firefighters everywhere, took great pride in keeping their fire station spotless.
“So,” Prissy began very casually, “did you see Dr. Gilliard?”
Stan glanced up sharply from his task. “What?”
“I said,” Prissy repeated coolly, “did you see Dr. Gilliard? She was here tonight. With her parents, I think.”
“Yeah?” Stan’s voice was neutral. “I didn’t see her.”
“Hmm.”
He frowned at her. “What?”
“Nothing,” Prissy said with feigned nonchalance. “I’m just wondering whether we’re going to keep running into her everywhere. First the ball, now here.”
“She lives in Coronado, Pris,” Stan pointed out dryly. “It’s a small community.”
“I know that,” Prissy said irritably. “I was just making an observation.”
Stan said nothing, quietly pushing the dust mop across the floor.
As Prissy watched him, her mother’s sage warnings ran through her mind. Make damn certain you know what you’re talking about before you accuse a man of infidelity….You can’t unring a bell once it has been rung….
She turned away from the table and bent down, her movements sharp and jerky as she tied up the plastic trash bag. “I think Dr. Gilliard is attracted to you.”
There was a pause.
“I don’t think so,” Stan said flatly.
Prissy gave a derisive snort. “Typical.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You never think any woman is attracted to you, Stan. No matter how many of them throw themselves at you, you’re always completely clueless. It’s ridiculous. It’s as if you’ve never looked in a damn mirror.”
“I’m a married man,” he bit out tersely.
“So what! For goodness’ sake, Stan! Just because we’re married doesn’t mean other people can’t find us attractive and want to sleep with us.” She paused, then some perverse instinct made her volunteer, “I met a good-looking businessman while I was in Rochester. I was having a drink at the bar, and he sat down next to me and started flirting. So men might use a more direct approach than women, but…” She trailed off pointedly.
Dead silence.
The next sound she heard was the dust mop clattering to the floor, and then suddenly Stan was upon her, the heat of his body scorching her as he hauled her up and against him.
“What is this?” he demanded roughly against her ear. “You trying to start an argument with me? Or are you trying to have me ripping that city apart to find the bold motherfucker who stepped to my wife?”
“Of c-course not,” Prissy stammered, nervously licking her lips. “I’m just suggesting—”
“What, you think you’re leaving me or something?” Stan growled, sending fiery shivers through her. “You think I’d ever let you go anywhere? Huh? You must be out of your damn mind.”
Prissy trembled hard, feeling like a child who’d accidentally ignited an inferno after playing with matches. “Stan—”
He whipped her around, framing her face between his hands as his obsidian eyes blazed into hers. “There’s no one else,” he said fiercely. “When we get home tonight, we’re gonna sit down and talk about everything, I promise you that. But for now, I need you to know and believe me when I tell you that there’s no one else. There hasn’t been anyone else since the day I met you and lost my heart.”
“Oh, God,” Prissy whimpered as tears flooded her eyes. She shook her head at him. “I’m so confused, baby. I want to bel—”
He crushed his mouth to hers. When she instinctively resisted, he tightened his arms around her, holding her imprisoned against the hard wall of his chest as he kissed her fiercely and possessively, demanding her surrender.
Prissy moaned helplessly and sucked his tongue, feeling her body melt even as she wrestled with her anger and fears.
With a supreme effort she managed to break free and stumble backward, panting sharply for breath.
Stan stared at her, dark eyes smoldering, nostrils flaring.
Without warning he lunged forward, picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.
“Stanton!” Prissy gasped. “What do you think you’re doing?”
He carried her across the hall and past the kitchen area to the metal pole that stretched up to the second floor of the fire station. He set Prissy down on her feet, then sank to his haunches in front of her.
Before she could react or protest, he spun her around and quickly unzipped her black skirt, then dragged it down her thighs and over her stiletto boots.
Prissy stared over her shoulder at him, trembling uncontrollably with desire as he seized the waistband of her black panties and eased the scrap of silk down her legs.
“Step out,” he roughly commanded, and she obeyed without question.
His eyes glittered with possessive satisfaction as he tenderly caressed her round bottom, the scrape of his callused palms sending delicious chills through her. When he gently slapped her butt cheek, she whimpered and grabbed the pole, wantonly parting her legs wider.
Leaning forward, Stan kissed the small of her back, then slowly ran his hot tongue down the cleft of her bottom, making her shiver and groan as jolts of sensation rushed to her loins. When he reached the underside of her butt, he paused, deliberately drawing out her torture as his mouth hovered at her fleshy lips.
He raised his eyes to hers. “You’re mine, wife,” he told her, the ferocity of his dark gaze rocking her to the core. “No other man will ever lay claim to you. You belong to me, and I belong to you. Do you understand?”
Prissy nodded quickly and squeezed her eyes shut, her pulse pounding right into cardiac arrest levels.
When he stroked his tongue over her labia, she shuddered violently and arched backward, convinced that he would kill her with ecstasy before this night was over.
Without warning he spun her back around and pushed her against the pole. As their heated gazes locked, he hooked her booted leg over his left shoulder and lowered his mouth to her throbbing sex.
She cried out, frantically reaching above her to grab the pole for purchase.
“Baby…” she mewled as Stan licked the plump folds of her sex, tasting and teasing her until her breath came in short gasps and her hips twisted and writhed against his tormenting mouth. When he drew back the hood of her clit and sucked her between his lips, she came with a hoarse, primal scream.
As her knees buckled Stan caught her. Surging from the floor, he lifted her into his arms and slanted his mouth over hers, sharing her erotic taste with her. She groaned with mindless pleasure as he palmed her ass cheeks and ground his huge erection against her.
As moisture dripped from her aching sex, she attacked Stan’s uniform shirt, too impatient to bother unfastening the buttons. He let out a dark, rumbling laugh as she yanked the shirt open, sending buttons flying in every direction. Together they tugged off his white undershirt and cast it aside, then made quick work of shedding the rest of each other’s clothes.
When Prissy stood in nothing more than her black stiletto boots, Stan made a guttural sound of masculine appreciation before hoisting her into his arms. She locked her legs around his waist, her pussy full and throbbing with anticipation.
They stared into each other’s eyes as he thrust into her, stretching her as he sank all the way inside her wetness. His husky groan of pleasure joined hers as he began rocking her against the pole, imprisoning her between the warm metal and his hard, muscular body. She held on to his impossibly wide shoulders and let her head fall back as his lips raked over her exposed throat.
She was burning up, so hot that she swore the furnace must be on full blast. She arched against Stan as his scorching mouth lowered to her bouncing breasts and sucked her nipples, sending spasms of pleasure tearing through her loins.
She tightened her damp thighs around his hips, feeling his stomach and butt muscles clench and unclench as he pumped into her, the force of his powerful thrusts moving her up and down the pole.
She moaned his name, searing flames licking at her body as she sought to quench the blazing inferno that was raging through her.
Lifting his head from her breasts, Stan stared into her eyes, the feral intensity of his gaze making her tremble from the inside out. “I need you so damn much, baby,” he confessed in an achingly raw voice. “You can’t ever leave me. Ever.”
Tears scalded Prissy’s eyes. “I won’t,” she promised fervently. “I swear I won’t.”
His nostrils flared with emotion. Slanting his mouth over hers, he kissed her with savage tenderness as he drove deeper into her, his steely shaft stroking every part of her. Their bodies made wet slapping sounds as sweat slickened their skin, salty beads rolling between their joined genitals and dripping onto the floor.
Prissy gripped Stan’s muscular shoulders and clawed at his back as waves of pleasure soared through her, so blisteringly intense it was almost unbearable.
“Stan…” she whimpered helplessly. “Oh, baby…!”
As the scorching ache within her erupted, she threw back her head and sobbed in ecstasy, tears spilling from her eyes. Stan exploded at the same time with an exultant shout of her name, his hips pumping furiously as he ejaculated inside her.
They clung desperately to each other, her breasts heaving against his chest, their bodies shuddering from the violent aftershocks of orgasm.
When a sharp clap of thunder suddenly shook the building, Prissy smiled through her tears and joked, “Talk about moving heaven and earth.”
They shared a soft, breathless laugh.
“Mmm,” Prissy purred after a few moments, nibbling Stan’s jaw. “What a naughty boy you are, Lieutenant Wolf, debauching your wife at the firehouse. And not even your own firehouse, at that.”
He chuckled lazily. “I’m just wondering why we never did this sooner.”
“Mmm. Good question. We’ll have to make up for lost time.”
Stan gave a husky laugh. “One thing’s for damn sure,” he drawled. “After tonight, I’ll never look at another pole the same way again.”
Prissy grinned impishly. “Me, neither.”
Stan kissed her ear, her closed eyelids, her mouth and her arched throat, murmuring tender words of love.
Enveloped in his strong arms, their bodies intimately joined, Prissy felt a profoundly powerful sense of completion wash over her.
Right then and there she vowed not to let anything—or anyone—come between her and her husband ever again.
Hours later, as they lay in the darkness of their bedroom with streaks of lightning forking across the night sky outside the window, Stan whispered softly, “Pris?”
She didn’t respond.
“Pris? You awake?”
She mumbled incoherently, snuggling closer to him beneath the heavy covers.
“Baby?”
“Hmm?”
“We were supposed to talk,” he reminded her. “I know it’s late—”
She laid her fingers over his mouth. “Sleep,” she whispered.
Stan smiled.
“Okay,” he acquiesced, gently kissing her soft fingertips. “We’ll talk another time.”
Long after Prissy drifted back to sleep, he lay awake watching her quietly.
No matter how painful or difficult it was, he would tell her about the nightmares.
He would tell her everything.
But first he had to take care of some unfinished business.