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who’s the comedian?” Drew called as he stooped to pick up the doll.
    “Mama,” the doll whined, followed by louder chuckles.
    He turned to put the doll back in the basket, but set it on the bench instead, since the white wicker carrier that had held the little baby doll with blond ringlets was stuffed full of disposable diapers.
    “Mama,” the doll cried again.
    Drew let out a sigh as his eye caught the shelf in his locker. Upon closer inspection, he realized the guys had replaced his shampoo with a no-more-tears formula of baby shampoo. Instead of his black comb was an infant’s brush and comb in pink, with tiny blue flowers no less. His bar of soap had disappeared, too, but his co-workers had included a bottle of baby soap,along with economy-size bottles of pink baby lotion and talcum powder.
    “You can come out now,” he said. He suspected Cale was responsible for the joke since he’d been with him when Emily’s doctor had mistakenly assumed Drew was “the responsible party.” A big joke at that, since marriage and family were absolutely not part of his lifelong agenda. He might have one of the lower-risk jobs in the fire department, but he still faced a good amount of danger investigating fires each time he entered a burned-out structure. Since he had no intention of hanging up his gear, he’d decided a long time ago there was no way he’d put a child or a wife through one ounce of the pain he’d suffered at the loss of his parents.
    “Drew, buddy,” Tom “Scorch” McDonough said as he rounded the corner. A wide grin split the paramedic’s freckled face. “You should have told us.”
    Cale slapped Drew on the back. “He’s been keeping this one quiet.”
    Drew shrugged off his brother’s hand. “Hey, I hardly know her.”
    “Wow.” Fitz, another third-generation firefighter, laughed. “That’s fast work. Even for you.”
    Cale crossed his arms and leaned against the row of lockers, careful to avoid the bubble-gum cigars littering the floor. “Yeah, but you’re interested. I saw the look, Drew.”
    He frowned. “What look?” Since when had he become so transparent that Cale could tell what he was thinking?
    “The one you get when your interest is piqued by someone of the opposite sex,” Brady, Cale’s paramedic partner, added.
    Scorch nodded knowingly. “That starving-dog look.”
    “More like a lovesick-puppy look,” Ben Perry said.
    Drew shot them all a scathing glance, then tugged his T-shirt over his head and tossed it in the bottom of the locker. “I’m doing an old woman a favor. End of story.”
    A slight smile curved Ben’s mouth, something that didn’t happen often enough. “Sounds like the beginning of one to me.”
    Drew shucked out of his trouser and briefs, then picked up a clean towel to wrap around his waist. “Shows how much you don’t know. Now if you comedians will excuse me, I need to shower and get back to the hospital.” He turned his back on the practical jokers, shrugged and grabbed the bottle of baby shampoo from the shelf. Shampoo was shampoo, after all.
    “See what I mean?” Cale said.
    “He can’t stand to be away from her,” Brady added.
    Scorch laughed. “Looks like his Casanova days are numbered.”
    Drew stopped in front of the last locker at the end of the row and turned to face them. He could give and take with the best of them, and had even been the engineer behind more than a practical joke or two. But they’d just gone too far in his mind. No way in hell were his bachelor days in danger of disappearing. He enjoyed women, a lot, and preferred the freedom ofsampling all they had to offer too much to be tied down to only one woman.
    “You guys should talk,” he told them. “Cale’s engaged, Brady’s wife is pregnant and not talking to him again, and Scorch is tied up in knots over Tilly. Now whose days are numbered?” He couldn’t blame a woman for putting Ben through the wringer. As far as Drew knew, the last time his older