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in the no-nonsense manner of a nurse doling out medication. Melissa took her medicine gladly, a long sip of cool white wine. Maybe it would relax her. Brody definitely put her on edge.
    “But you have other ideas?”
    “Is that so bad? I just haven’t had the best luck in the romance department. I’m better off sticking to my career.” Not that things were going any better in that area. But if she thought about her life too much right now she’d get depressed. “What about you? Do you like being a firefighter?”
    “Sure. What is your career?”
    “I’m a news producer at Channel Six. What do you like about being a firefighter?”
    “News producer.” Most people were fascinated to hear she worked in the news. Not this man. His dark eyebrows drew together. “Channel Six? Ella Joy?”
    Melissa made a little face, which she quickly hid with another sip of wine. It would never do to show anything less than wholehearted support for the most demanding and aggravating anchor she’d ever worked with. “Yes, Ella Joy. We work together quite a bit.”
    “My guys all love her. Every night at eleven, no matter what’s going on, the TV gets turned to Channel Six.”
    “She’ll be happy to hear that,” said Melissa politely. “So how long does it take to become a fire captain?”
    “You must be good at your job. You’re a good interviewer.”
    Not good enough, thought Melissa. She was getting nowhere with him. Which was frustrating, since she really wanted to know more about him. “You don’t talk about your work?”
    “Not really, no.”
    “Why not?”
    Brody shrugged. “I don’t want to bore you.”
    She blinked at him indignantly. This, she reminded herself, was why she never went out with this kind of man—a man’s man, who probably saw women as pretty, empty-headed decorations. Pointedly, she adjusted the glasses on her nose. “So that’s the way you think. That I can’t handle it.”
    “Handle it?” He looked startled. “Oh. You mean . . . No, of course that’s not it. Please, look at you. You’re obviously very smart.”
    “What makes you say that?”
    “I would say the glasses, but then you’d think I was an idiot who assumed every girl with glasses is smart. No, it’s the way you challenge the things I say.”
    Melissa felt her face heat. How had this man, this stranger, this macho man, put his finger on her worst fault? “It’s a bad habit. Career hazard.”
    “No,” he said thoughtfully. “It’s not because of your career. But I’m sure it helps you. You don’t have to apologize for it, I like it.”
    “You do?”
    “Sure. Same reason I like racquetball. Keeps me on my toes.”
    After a pause, Melissa gave a gurgle of laughter. “Likewise. Every time I think I have a handle on you, you throw me a curve.”
    He cocked his head at her. “You have a lovely laugh.”
    And there went another curve.

Chapter Four
    T he fire captain was truly unpredictable. Melissa never would have guessed they’d find so many things to talk about. Through their delicious, if bland, meal of baked salmon and boiled potatoes, they discussed all sorts of things, from their hometowns (San Gabriel for her, Phoenix, Arizona, for him), to their favorite movie ( Casablanca for her, Ben-Hur for him), to their first loves (Betty in second grade for him, Keanu Reeves for her). Brody seemed to actually listen to her, rather than waiting for her to finish so he could describe his latest screenplay. As she talked, he watched her closely with those deep charcoal eyes. Somewhere in the middle of the second bottle of Chardonnay, while digging into her chocolate soufflé, she decided his eyes were the most beautiful she’d ever seen.
    After dinner they drove to the Oasis Club and danced to the Les Barrett band, which hadn’t changed their play list since about 1960. Melissa watched with awe the older couples who swirled around them on the polished dance floor. No matter how stiff in the joints, how gnarled and