Sabina jogged around the San Gabriel Reservoir as if ten thousand zombies were chasing her. Hollywood zombies like Max Winkler. She’d spent too much time in the down-to-earth world of firefighters. She’d forgotten the shameful depths to which someone like Max would stoop.
She’d known Zombie Nights IV was a mistake, but after she’d signed all her earnings over to her mother, she’d been flat broke. Giving all her money to her mother had been an easy choice—it was the only way she could free herself from her guilt over leaving You and Me, and effectively ending the show. Signing on for an uncredited performance on Zombie Nights had given her enough cash to put herself through the academy and get a job as a firefighter.
Since neither her stage name nor her real name had appeared on the credits, and they’d given her a long blond wig for the role, no one would ever link Zombie Nights and little Taffy McGee. Her biggest secret was still safe.
So, no regrets. The guys had been pretty easy on her, probably because Roman kept throwing hazmat drills at them. Vader had actually seemed impressed.
“You’re like, a scream queen. And you never told me, Two. What the fuck? That was one of the best zombie killings ever shot. Did you see how that blood spurted? How’d they do that?”
Her mood lightened as she reached the three-mile mark, which was a willow tree that drooped graceful branches into the still water. Maybe everything would be okay. Max had exposed her embarrassing shower scene to the crew and she’d survived. They’d all seen her naked back and a slight bit of the under curve of her right breast. So what? She’d seen more of Vader during his workouts. She was still a proud member of San Gabriel Fire Station 1. Nothing had really changed.
By the time she got to work the next day, she was absolutely sure the worst was over.
“Morning, Zombie,” Double D greeted her.
So she’d acquired a new nickname. Big deal.
“Cute, Doo-doo. But you don’t want to piss me off. I haven’t had breakfast. I might go for some scrambled brains.”
His belly laugh followed her to her locker. She hid a smile. That was how to handle the guys. Give it right back. Don’t let them see they got to you.
Vader, a few lockers over, hissed at her. “We got Saturday night off this week. What are you doing?”
“You mean after I buy every DVD of Zombie Nights in Southern California and destroy it?”
“What are you talking about? That shit’s classic. I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me. I tell you everything.” His deep-set brown eyes looked a bit moist. “Even . . . you know.”
“How’s Cherie?” asked Sabina, desperate to change the subject.
“She made me watch some documentary about bullying.”
“Good for her. I’m starting to like that woman.”
“At the end she let me touch her boobs. But the damn movie had me so freaked out I didn’t even enjoy it. Give me Zombie Nights any day.”
So much for a subject change. She ducked into the bathroom to get into her uniform. So far, so good. Her first post–Zombie Nights shift wasn’t going too badly. She brushed out her hair and braided it with quick fingers.
Everything would be okay, she told herself for the millionth time. She’d weathered the storm. She hadn’t caved in to Max. Her world hadn’t been completely destroyed. Sure, a few things had changed, and part of her longed to turn back time to when Brody was still captain, Carly had the prime spot on the team roster, and no one had seen her half naked.
But then she wouldn’t have met Roman.
When she emerged from the bathroom, she paused. Something was different. Something was happening. A hyperactive, excited buzz of voices came from the training room, as if a bunch of guys were all talking at the same time.
Not an unusual phenomenon, but she also detected a low female voice in the mix. Ella Joy, the Channel Six anchor? Melissa Brody, the captain’s newly pregnant wife, along with her little girl, Danielle? Smiling eagerly, she hurried down the corridor to say hi. Danielle was a cutie, and she hadn’t yet congratulated Melissa on her big news.
In the training room, the guys were all gathered in a tight knot in the middle of the room. She caught snatches of what they were saying.
“Can you sign one for my mom? . . . My little sister loved your show . . . I liked the episode with the pet ferret . . . What was that phrase you always said . . . Why Taffy McGee, what were you thinking?”
A throaty voice echoed that last phrase, along with a husky chuckle that sounded like skilled fingertips stroking velvet.
Sabina stood rooted to the floor of the corridor, completely unable to make sense of what was going on here. Had someone put on one of Annabelle’s movies? She hadn’t heard that voice in so many years, thanks to her nearly complete avoidance of TV.
Then Double D shifted to one side. There stood Annabelle Hatfield. She looked the same, but . . . tighter. Like a jewel that someone had been polishing for ten years. Her dark red hair—Annabelle always told her colorists to make it “Merlot”—cascaded in tumbling waves down her wiry form. She crackled with energy, as she always had. A firecracker of a woman. She’d always drawn attention without even trying, as if the spotlight was her natural habitat.
On the show Annabelle’s character had been vivacious and scattered, always trying to make ends meet and rein in the troublemaking Taffy.
Off the show, she and Sabina had fought over everything from breakfast cereal to how long Sabina could grow her hair. Not past her ears.
Their eyes met. Annabelle’s widened just a bit as she took in Sabina’s plain blue SGFD uniform and long, brown braid.
“Why, there’s little Taffy now!” Her mother laughed and blew an air kiss at Sabina, as if this weren’t their first encounter in thirteen years . . . as if she weren’t in the process of destroying years of obsessively cultivated anonymity.
As one, the other firefighters, mouths agape, all swung toward Sabina. Watching their expressions was like witnessing the five stages of death. Shock, denial, confusion, glee . . . well, maybe the five stages of disaster didn’t exactly conform to stages of death.
Double D’s mouth flapped like the flag in front of the station; for once he had no nasty dig. Psycho scratched at his buzz cut. Fred looked as if she’d killed his favorite puppy. Vader still hadn’t really caught on. Ace gazed at her with a look of awe. Apart from the group, in the doorway of his office, stood Roman. She was afraid to look too closely at his expression.
She ought to go greet her mother, say hello for the first time in thirteen years. But she couldn’t move. If ever she felt like a zombie, it was now. “Lineup,” she blurted desperately.
Roman blinked. Then he stepped forward. “Ms. Hatfield . . .”
“Annabelle,” she purred.
“Annabelle, it’s time for lineup, when Captain Kelly talks about tedious things like staffing and overtime and who has vacation coming up. I’m going to have to ask you to—”
“I’d be delighted to watch. All these years and I’ve never seen my darling daughter do her firefighter act.”
Sabina gritted her teeth. “Act, my ass,” she growled under her breath, taking her position. The guys were fighting to line up next to her, but Vader won. “I don’t get it.” His jaw muscle clenched. “You’re Taffy? The kid in the show?”
“Shut up.” The fact that her mother was here, that she’d outed her as Taffy in front of the crew, still hadn’t completely sunk in.
“But Taffy was a chubster. And she had red hair.”
“Vader!” Roman barked. “Focus.”
Vader snapped to attention along with the rest of the crew. Sabina had never seen everyone’s posture so perfect. They listened attentively as Captain Kelly went through the staffing over the next nine days and talked about vacation time over Christmas. Focused quiet reigned in the kitchen. It seemed her mother had inspired the best lineup ever.
Roman took his time talking about the drills scheduled for that week, and Sabina could have kissed him for it. She dreaded the end of the lineup when she would have to face her mother, who had perched herself gracefully on the arm of the couch. With her still-toned legs crossed, a determined smile on her lips, her jade peg-leg trousers glowing under the fluorescent lights, Annabelle watched every moment as if she’d never seen anything so fascinating.
Sabina wished lineup would last forever. Or that a call would come in. Or that the firehouse would explode. Something. Of all the ways she’d imagined seeing her mother again, this one had never crossed her mind.
Roman hid his fury during the longest lineup he’d ever experienced. This morning he’d fielded a phone call from Chief Renteria asking about a rumor about a female firefighter who’d done some kind of porno. Roman had set him straight, but the man still hadn’t been happy.
“I don’t like the sound of this. If the news got hold of it, San Gabriel would be plastered all over the media again. Deal with it, Captain Roman.”
“It’s already dealt with.”
But this wasn’t. How did you deal with the sudden appearance of a world-famous movie star at the station? How did you deal with the fact that one of your firefighters turned out to be a world-famous child star? Not only that, but the star of one of your favorite back-in-the-day shows? Sabina was Taffy McGee!
No wonder she was so damn beautiful. No wonder she’d blown him off. Fuck, he was pissed.
Captain Kelly droned on. “If you haven’t put in a request for time off over Christmas, talk to me by the end of the week and I’ll see what I can do.”
Sabina gazed off into the distance, refusing to meet his eyes. She’d better be afraid. If this got out—if the media knew that this firehouse was home to Taffy McGee—all hell would break loose. And Renteria would have his ass.
As lineup concluded and the guys peeled off to go work out and prepare for the hazmat simulation scheduled for later, Annabelle Hatfield applauded. “Bravo, San Gabriel. Well done, boys. And girl.”
He caught a desperate look from Sabina, an unmistakable plea for rescue. Silently he groaned and beckoned to her. “Come help me in the apparatus bay, Jones.”
This wasn’t a rescue, he told himself savagely. It was a chance to vent his fury.
In the apparatus bay, he strode to a secluded spot behind the pumper, as far as possible from the rest of the crew. She followed warily. When they were safely hidden from view, he clamped his hands on her shoulders and scowled ferociously at her.
“What are you trying to do to me?”
Her turquoise eyes widened. “Excuse me?”
“I’m trying to bring some order to this place, but every day it’s something else. A surprise video. Now a visit from a movie star to her daughter, who turns out to be Taffy McGee. How am I supposed to explain this to the brass? Are you doing it on purpose?”
A fury equal to his twisted her elegant features. “Yes, of course,” she hissed. “First I dug up an incredibly embarrassing moment from my past and made sure all the guys could see it and laugh at me. Then I demanded that my movie-star mother visit me at the station so no one would ever look at me the same again—” She stopped suddenly, pressing her lips so tightly together they went white at the edges.
Something clenched deep in Roman’s gut. He watched her, so proud, fighting so hard to control her emotions, to put on a brave face, and knew he would have thrown himself in front of a speeding fire truck to make it better. He fisted his hands to keep from touching her, though every fiber in his body screamed to.
She bit her lip hard. Unshed tears turned her eyes the misty green of a Scottish lake at dawn. A smothered sob rippled through her body, tight as a drawn bow.
And he couldn’t take it. He reached out and hauled her against him. Enfolding her tense body in his arms, he soothed her with long strokes down her back and low murmurs in her ear. She felt wonderful against him, warm and vulnerable and soft. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay. Shh.”
She shook against him, refusing to release her tears. “They’ll all think I’m a freak now.”
“No, they won’t.”
“They won’t act normal. They’ll treat me different. Nothing will ever be the same.”
“If anyone treats you different, I’ll put their ass on suspension.”
She gave a snorting, piglike sob. “Don’t you dare. It’s my problem, not yours.”
Roman smiled into her fragrant hair, breathing in the elusive scent of jasmine that clung to her. Even on the verge of a meltdown, Sabina Jones gave as good as she got.
After what seemed like far too short a time, she drew away from him. The loss of her supple body in his arms gave him a physical pain. It had been so long since he’d comforted a woman. He longed to yank her back against him so he could take care of her.
But clearly she didn’t want that. She didn’t want his soft side. No one did. They all wanted the tough captain.
“I’m so sorry, Chief Roman,” she said stiffly. “I’m not usually like this.”
“I realize that.”
“I don’t want you to think I’m some sort of overemotional female who can’t handle the pressure.”
He clasped his hands behind his back to keep from touching her again. “You can handle everything by yourself, is that it?”
“Of course.”
“You never need a helping hand? A shoulder to cry on?”
She straightened her spine. “Of course not. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time.”
He examined her for a long, serious moment. “Firefighters work together, Jones.”
“I know that.”
“Do you?”
She went pale with fury. “I have an excellent record. I’ve never even gotten a reprimand. I’ve gotten the Hot Shot Award and several other commendations. I’ve always been a good crew member.”
That was more like the stubborn Sabina he knew.
“Deal with your mother, Jones. I want no more disruptions here. Understand?”
Her face worked. Then she saluted with a military precision that screamed mockery. “Perfectly, sir.”
As he watched her go, he swore he could see the hot rage rolling off her body in waves.
God, she detested Chief Roman. He was arrogant, annoying, interfering, unfair, unfeeling . . .
Okay, it had been nice of him to try to comfort her, not that she needed it. For one brief, glorious moment she’d allowed herself to bask in the warmth that radiated from him, the strength that dwelled in his bones, the steady thump of his heart.
But then he had to turn into an arrogant jerk again and get her all riled up.
Filled with furious energy, she hurried back to the training room to find her mother, who was chatting with some EMTs who had just happened to drop by. Word about the surprise visiting movie star was already spreading. Sabina waved a cup of Roman’s special coffee under Annabelle’s nose and managed to drag her mother off to her room in the female dorm.
“This is where you sleep?” Annabelle gazed around in astonishment. “This is the size of your toy box at our Beverly Hills villa. Remember that place?”
No trips down memory lane. Not now. Sabina struggled for calm, but it was like trying to right a rowboat after a tsunami. “Annabelle, why are you here?”
For as long as Sabina could remember, she’d called her Annabelle, never any version of “mother,” unless they were in character.
Taffy called Peg Mom. It had always felt so unnatural.
“Max said you wanted me to come.”
Sabina stared into her mother’s eyes, the vibrant green of a hummingbird feather—similar to her own, but with the addition of curled eyelashes and a slight uptilt at the corners. Her words to Max came back to her. If Annabelle wants me that badly, she should stop hiding behind a Hollywood weasel in an overpriced Mercedes.
Oops.
“But . . . why here? I never wanted anyone in San Gabriel to know I used to act.”
“Max didn’t know where else to find you. Your address is unlisted. I don’t know how he found you here in this dinky little place.”
Sabina narrowed her eyes at her mother, who perched on the edge of her bed. Annabelle had photogenic features, a respectable amount of talent, a ton of charisma, and the relentless drive of a spawning salmon. She wouldn’t have come to San Gabriel without a very good reason. “I didn’t know you were looking for me. I only heard through the tabloids that you’d moved to Paris.”
“Yes, well, that’s done now.” Annabelle drummed her fingers on the jade-green fabric covering her knee. Reflected light from her many rings danced around the drab space. “It was time to come home. Or . . . close enough.”
Sabina paced to the far corner of the room, though it took only three steps. Still, that put her three extra steps away from a brawl with her mother. “Why didn’t you call me first? Or anytime in the past thirteen years? Max knows my number.”
“You’re angry?”
“You’ve destroyed my privacy, my anonymity, everything I’ve worked for over the past ten years. You never think about me. You never did. It was always what you wanted.”
“Are you starting in on that old tune again? It might make more sense if you weren’t here.” Annabelle cast a revolted look around the tiny room. “You can’t possibly really want this.”
“Yes, I can. It’s exactly what I want. I want to work here and fight fires and save lives and make a difference in the world.”
“Entertaining people doesn’t make a difference?”
Sabina felt the tendons at the back of her neck go taut. How did this always happen? It was as if the past ten years had never occurred and she was right back where she’d started, arguing endlessly with her mother. “Of course it does,” she managed through clenched teeth. “But that’s not what I want to do. I want to do this.”
“Who says you have to stop doing this?” Annabelle opened her purse and pulled out a cigarette.
“No smoking. Have you forgotten this is a fire station?”
“I don’t smoke them. I chew on them. Keeps my weight down.” She inserted it between her lips, which she’d painted the color of freshly washed plums. “Did Max tell you how much they’re offering for the reunion show?”
“Yes. They could offer me a billion dollars and I wouldn’t do it.”
“But what about me? Can’t you spare a thought for me?”
“Excuse me?”
“One little show, what harm could it do?”
“One little— After everything I—? Annabelle, you haven’t heard a word I’ve said. Since I was born.”
Annabelle waved her unlit cigarette at her. “Look at you, kiddo. My gorgeous daughter. You could be the new It Girl. You could work with the biggest stars in Hollywood. Your pick of roles. The cover of People. Cover of everything. Instead you’re hiding out in this odd little town where no one even knows who you are.”
Sabina ground her teeth together. “They know now, thanks to you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I was being sarcas—”
“Do you know who asked about you over lunch at the Ivy? Greg Harrington.”
Sabina shuddered; after all these years, that name still had the power to unnerve her. “Are you referring to the creep you made me date at the age of sixteen, who broke my heart and nearly raped me?”
“Oh please, don’t exaggerate. He’s a superstar now. I always knew he would be. He still remembers you.”
This couldn’t get worse. It just couldn’t. Mention of Greg Harrington had to be rock bottom. Sabina cast her eyes to the ceiling and prayed for patience. “Think logically here, Annabelle. You don’t need me to get your career going again. Forget the reunion show. Do a movie. Find some really cool director to work with. Quentin Tarantino always liked your work.”
Annabelle tilted her head thoughtfully. “Max said your fear of public exposure was keeping you from committing to the reunion show.”
A horrible thought occurred to Sabina. “Annabelle. Did you show up here on purpose to expose me?”
“Of course not! If I wanted to expose you, there are so many simple ways to do it. But they wouldn’t include so many handsome firemen.” She gave a naughty wink. “Did I detect some sparks between you and that big one?”
Just like some horrible lost episode of the Twilight Zone, it kept getting worse, and worse . . .
“But now that the cat’s out of the bag, I don’t think any of your fireman friends would mind if you did one more appearance as Taffy. We can bring a few on as extras. They’re very sexy.”
That did it.
Sabina stalked to her mother’s side and hauled her to her feet. “Go away, Annabelle. I won’t do the show. Ever. Leave me alone and let me do my job in peace.”
Annabelle yanked her arm out of Sabina’s grasp. “You’re being pigheaded. As always.”
“If that’s what you want to call it, fine.”
Annabelle whirled around and headed for the door. Halfway there, she paused. The fiery expression in her tilted emerald eyes would have made grown men quail, but Sabina just folded her arms and gave it right back.
“You can’t hide forever, Sabina. You’re making a mistake.”
“Fine. At least it’s my mistake!”
As soon as Annabelle had whisked herself from the room, Sabina sank onto the bed, quivering. She’d seen her mother. Her mother. After thirteen years. And nothing had changed. Nothing.
Annabelle hadn’t even tried to give her a hug or a kiss on the cheek. All they’d talked about was the reunion show. In one hidden part of her heart, Sabina knew that if Annabelle had opened her arms and welcomed Sabina like a daughter, she would have given her mother anything.
Had Annabelle really burned through all the You and Me money already? Just how desperate was she?
At that thought, uneasiness snaked through her. Annabelle had always been extraordinarily stubborn and resourceful. And “no” was her least favorite word.