The Night Belongs to Fireman by Jennifer Bernard Page A

romantic streak and didn’t want to ruin the wedding.”
    From off camera, the reporter laughed. “Don’t you think you had something to do with saving all those lives? They’re calling you the Bachelor Hero of San Gabriel.”
    â€œ Excuse me? ”
    â€œWe know you’re a modest man, so maybe you don’t—”
    â€œYou don’t understand. I was just doing my job .”
    The camera shifted to aim at the reporter, who turned out to be the glamorous anchorwoman, Ella Joy. “And so the legend grows. Don’t let Fred Breen’s humble manner fool you. He’s a hero, through and through. You might remember him from the Cooking with Heat project, a cookbook which he spearheaded, with all proceeds donated to the 9/11 fund.”
    Here they showed a shot of a slightly younger Fred eagerly displaying a cookbook for the camera. Lord, he was adorable. Since Rachel’s father owned an animation studio, among many other things, she’d met her share of movie stars and celebrities over the years. But none of them had come close to Fred’s unselfconscious appeal.
    â€œWe’ll have a lot more on Firefighter Breen and the new Urban Search and Rescue Squad in our special hour-long report tonight, Heart of a Hero .”
    Off screen, she heard Fred spluttering. “Heart of bullsh—” before the sound was cut off.
    Rachel took a long swallow of her coffee. This was bad. Very bad. While she appreciated Fred’s reluctance to grab the spotlight, the truth was he didn’t have much choice in the matter. If the media decided to turn him into a story, he’d be a story. And if he was the story, she couldn’t go anywhere near him.
    The thought made her unexpectedly sad, as if she were passing by a warmly lit house she’d never be able to enter. Instead of taking a present to the firehouse, she’d have to order something to be delivered.
    She clicked on the next link, and this time she saw Fred heaving her into his arms and settling her against his chest. A shiver passed through her, a visceral memory of what it had felt like to be nestled so close to him. And then she saw it. The way she’d shaken the hair away from her face, so it didn’t get caught in the fasteners of his jacket, left her profile momentarily exposed. The camera didn’t zoom in on her or linger on her face in any way, but that didn’t matter. Anyone with any sort of technical knowledge at all would be able to zoom in on the shot and get a pretty good image of her.
    Well, there was nothing to do about it now. Once it was online, there was no scrubbing it out of existence. She just had to hope it didn’t go viral, that the kidnapper never saw it, that the kidnapper had moved on to other concerns or maybe that he wasn’t even alive anymore.
    The threat still hung over her head, the way it had since she was eight years old. She was only twenty-five, too young to have her life ruled by some maniac with a grudge against her father. But what choice did she really have?
    Sighing, she turned back to her Internet search and Googled “gifts for hot firemen.”
    â€œSweet heavens,” she whispered, as images populated her screen. Weren’t firemen supposed to wear shirts?
    W hen Fred arrived for his next shift, it didn’t take long for the teasing to set in.
    â€œBachelor Hero, coming through,” said Mulligan.
    â€œTrying to get lucky with a bridesmaid?” teased Vader, who was now Captain Brown. Making captain hadn’t put a dent in his exuberant sense of humor.
    â€œI’m dedicating my divorce to you, hot shot,” growled Double D. “Except my wife won’t give me one.”
    Only Sabina showed him any sympathy. She shepherded him toward the kitchen, growling at anyone who tried to stop them. Ace the rookie, whose time at the station was nearly up, gave him a salute.
    â€œNice story. Uh, my sister told me to ask for