Hearts on Fire (2 page)

Before her eyes could adjust to the low light of the interior, she heard Danny call out from the left side of the bar and immediately headed over to join him and the other guys from her shift.

“Here’s the hero of the hour,” Tommy called out, and a group of four beer mugs sloshed together in a toast, spilling over the sides and dripping all over the pitcher-laden table.

“You pigs don’t take long to leave your mark,” Jess chuckled as she shrugged out of her jacket. Little puddles of beer dotted the smooth surface of the table. She was at home here, with these men she risked life and limb for on a regular basis, and they treated her as one of the guys. Just the way she wanted it.

Danny, Kyle, Tommy, and Mark — two firefighters, the driver or “chauffeur” as they affectionately called him, and the lieutenant, along with Jessica, made up the team for Station Two’s “A” shift. They worked hard — one twenty-four hour 7pm to 7pm shift — and played hard during the forty-eight hours they had off afterward. They were tough guys with big hearts, all gorgeous and oozing sex appeal, especially in uniform.

But Jessica didn’t see it. To her, they were the family she never had, the brothers that would kick the ass of any man foolish enough to mess with her. Not that she needed any help. With her temper, hot as any fire they could ever encounter, and her muscle, required for dragging hoses up stairways and bodies back down, she could definitely hold her own.

Danny poured her a frothy mug and slid it over to her as she sat next to him, and she gulped down a long, thirst-quenching drink. The cold beer soothed her throat, still a bit rough from the smoke she’d inhaled earlier.

Her gaze fell upon an elderly couple dancing on the bar’s excuse for a dance floor, barely big enough to swing a dead cat. They held each other tight, still in love after so many years together, as they slowly swayed back and forth to the jukebox playing “Neon Moon.” She wished desperately for a future like that, and a pang of envy flitted across her face for the briefest of moments, but the ever-watchful Danny saw it.

“Got some quarters here. Any special song requests?” Danny looked around the table.

“‘Freebird!’” Kyle mockingly yelled.

Mark punched him in the arm. “Dipshit.”

“Oh! Oh! ‘Crazier’ please! I love that song,” Jessica requested, ignoring the two morons across the table from her, and Danny hopped up to add his choices to the old couple’s queue.

“‘Crazier’ for the craziest one here. How fitting.” Kyle smirked at Jess.

“Lost another helmet, too. How many does that make? Three in the last year?” Mark teased, tossing her a wink from his jade green eyes.

“Four,” Jess muttered. “Not that I’m counting or anything.”

The group erupted into laughter.

Kyle’s face grew serious as he added, “You’ve got to stop the show-dogging in there. If you go down, we have to come in after you. That puts us all in danger.”

Jess scowled. “What are you, my wet-nurse? Get off my back. I get enough of that from Chief Clay. And I get the job done. You’re just jealous of my elite search and rescue skills.”

More laughter and more beer flowed from the table. Danny returned with another pitcher and a basket of popcorn, and the insults flew as they only can with such a tight-knit camaraderie.

The jangle of bells slapping against the door had Jess looking up to see none other than Cort Cavanaugh walk in followed closely by Battalion Chief Clay. Cort’s hair was unruly and windblown, his body lean and muscled. And oh, what a body it was! The quick little catch in her throat was drowned out by the jukebox’s opening guitar chords of “Crazier” and at that moment, Jess realized just how much she was as hopelessly in love with him as the day he left. Her stomach bunched up in knots as her brain screamed “
Do something!
”

She was not ready for this. Quickly, she grabbed Danny by the hand and pretended not to have seen Cort walk in. “It’s my song, Danny. Dance with me.”

Knowing he would not refuse, only a very small part of her felt guilty for using him. Truth was, she wanted Cort to think she was with Danny now, that she’d moved on, just as he had, and secretly hoped he’d be jealous.

Dragging him out to the tiny dance floor, she turned her back to the door and folded one arm around Danny’s neck, the other grasping firm to her beer mug, and smiled beguilingly into his blue eyes with a pleasure that belied her true feelings.

Danny Wilson had burned a secret flame for her for the last two years, only it wasn’t so secret to Jess. She could see they way he looked at her, the way he watched out for her on the job, even though she had always made it clear that her feelings for him were brotherly and nothing more.

His arms wrapped around her and he sighed. She knew that sigh, had exhaled it many times this last year. It was the sigh of unrequited love. A stab of guilt poked at her conscience but she swatted it away to worry about later.

Her reverie was broken as Cort appeared and tapped Danny on the shoulder. Irritation flashed across Danny’s face until he looked up to see that it was Cort cutting in.

“Cort, welcome back brother! Long time no see.” Danny smiled warmly at his old friend, slapping Cort’s back in a man-hug.

“You too. You mind if I cut in?” Cort flashed a grin, teeth white in his tanned face.

Danny shot a look of regret at Jess and returned to the table.

Jessica stood stiffly as Cort turned to her, a twinkle in his eye that hinted of complicity. She’d fooled nobody with her little stunt, so she’d settle for nonchalance.

“Oh, hi. You’re back.” Her voice was flat with indifference. She shrugged as he stepped in to put his arms around her waist. She sipped at her beer, and her other hand laid limply on his muscular chest, more to keep him at a distance than anything, trying hard to ignore how hard and warm he felt. Her eyes roamed the bar, looking at anything but him, taking in the tables, the bar decor, the people on bar stools having a care-free night, oblivious to the raging five-alarm fire burning up her insides.

The scent of him overwhelmed her — rich and warm like an expensive top-shelf brandy, and she closed her eyes, letting it wrap around her like a blanket. Pain washed over her face, clawing at her heart. She turned her head away and rested her cheek against the broad expanse of his chest so he couldn’t see her face as she struggled for composure.

“Careful, you might inflate my ego with all that enthusiasm,” he smiled wryly, “and yeah, I’m back. How have you been, Jess?”

Cort was slowly rubbing his thumb along the base of her spine, sending electric tingles sliding into secret places. She shivered, part from pleasure, part from nerves, and part from the gust of cold February wind that had blown through the open door moments before.

“Same as always.”
Tormented. Lonely. Broken-hearted.
She bit her bottom lip to contain the groan that nearly escaped her lips.

Jess finally looked up into his face and drank in his features. A dark stubble of shadow lined his jaw and the slumberous brown of his eyes echoed her desire and what looked like wishful thinking or regret. His skin was a golden bronze, more tanned than she remembered, and she longed to reach out and squeeze those biceps. Inside her, the familiar ache of pure lust stabbed at her midsection. A whirl of emotions swam around in her head, trying hard to undermine her ability to think straight.
Damn, he is so good-looking
.

“You look great.” Cort’s hands slid down to her tiny waist and around the small of her back to cradle her closer. Her honey-blond hair, now free from the confinement of braids, tumbled long and loose down her back, tickling the tops of his hands. Her eyes, innocent and soft and pale blue, were ringed by impossibly long lashes. He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of her — Jasmine and something like coconuts or almonds.

As he breathed in her exotic scent, the pang of a long year without her ripped through his gut, and he knew he’d made the right choice in coming back. She was a drug he couldn’t resist, even across the thousands of miles he’d put between them. And all he had to show for it was a year wasted without her and the possibility that he’d lost her forever.

Cort stopped dancing, completely mesmerized by her baby-blues, long-lashed and looking at him like he was the only man in the room. Picking up a stray tendril of her hair, he noticed that it was longer than it had been, and a new fringe of wispy bangs teased the tops of her eyebrows, further accenting the huge eyes in her heart-shaped face.

“The music stopped.” His voice was low and sultry.

Jess whispered, “What music?”

He leaned in, his eyes sweeping down to her slightly parted frosty-pink lips, so inviting, so pouty and plump. He hovered whisper-thin close, their breath mingling, and he cupped the back of her neck gingerly, her skin warm and silky to his fingers. Brushing his lips against hers, a spark of excitement ran through them both, and finally his mouth took hers, coaxing her tongue, tasting and teasing. The kiss deepened and he hungrily pulled her body in tight, yearning for more. As his mouth crushed against hers, a jagged need knifed through his stomach, and all he wanted was to get her alone, to show her how much he needed her, had always needed her. Had always loved her.

And she kissed back.

Like a first kiss, Jess’s insides tangled up in nerves and hyper-awareness. Her lips tingled where he brushed against them, sending little electric shocks through her, down deep inside, stirring up needs she’d buried there long ago. His kiss deepened, and against her will, Jess found herself responding, her free arm reaching up to run her eager fingers through his soft brown hair, wanting to grab hold and never let go. Her tongue orchestrated its own dance of desire with his as passion built. With heartbeat racing, her breath was coming in short gasps, and this time her moan, long and deep, could not be contained. She was drowning in the desire of the moment, losing herself in this all-consuming kiss.

Losing the battle.

With a Herculean effort, she tore her lips free of his as anger replaced the passion. Anger at herself for not standing strong.
He
was the reason she’d practically grieved away this past year of her life.
He
was the cause of her countless tears and too many sleepless, frustrated nights. Damned if she was going to just forget that with one little kiss.

With a deliberate flick of her wrist, she tossed the rest of the beer from her mug into his face and marched back to her table.

“What the hell?” Temporarily stunned, Cort just stood there, dripping. “Okay, I deserved that.” He followed after her.

The guys at the table gaped at her when she returned.

“My turn to buy a pitcher, fellas.”

Wallet in hand, Jess flounced over to the bartender and leaned her elbows on the spotless bar, hitching a booted foot on the brass foot rail like she had a thousand times before.

“I need another pitcher please. And I spilled my drink on the dance floor. Accidentally, of course. If you’ll give me a mop, I’ll clean it up.”

The bartender poured her pitcher and winked. “Terrible accident. I saw the whole thing. Don’t you worry about it, we’ll take care of it.”

“Thanks. And sorry.”

Cort arrived next to her at that moment, his face wiped dry from the napkins at their table.

“Jess.” There was a plea in his eyes, in his voice.

She shot him a scathing look. “Haven’t you had enough? I have a full pitcher this time.”

The bartender backed away out of splash range and Cort quirked a daring eyebrow at her.

“I just want to talk.”

“Seems to me you were doing more than talking out there.” She jerked her head toward the dance floor. “Besides, we have nothing to talk about.”

“We have everything to talk about.”

“Like what?”

“Like us.”

The bartender casually moseyed away to fetch the mop.

“There is no us. Or don’t you remember?” Jess poured herself a mug of the beer. No sense in letting good beer go warm.

Cort kept a wary eye on her beer mug as he responded. “I remember everything. How you told me you loved it here, that you’d never leave this place, not for love or money.”

Exasperated, Jess retorted, “If I’d known you were leaving when you asked that question, my answer would have been different. Of course I didn’t ever consider leaving this place. Because
you
were here.”

“Christ, Jess.” He took a deep breath, his lips pursed tight. Given a million more years, maybe he’d figure out women. Maybe. He gave her a long serious stare before continuing. “Being a smokejumper was my dream. Was it wrong to leave? Yes. But I can’t go back and change it. All I can do is come back and fix what I broke. To continue where we left off.”

“We left off with you leaving. So, bye.” Turning her back on him, she carried the pitcher back to her table and the still-quiet crowd of guys, who were now pretending they hadn’t been gawking and placing bets on what would happen next.

Jess slid her arms into her coat, pulling her long hair out from under the collar.

Chief Clay looked up. “You’re not leaving are you Jess? I just got here.”

“Sorry Chief, it’s too crowded in here.” She sent a withering sidelong glance toward Cort, then turned to the others. “Thanks for the beers, ladies. See you in forty-eight.”

As she walked to the door, all eyes were on her snug-fitting jeans, or rather what was filling them, and Chief Clay scurried up and placed a hand on her sleeve.

“Jess, wait. I didn’t get a chance to talk to you at the station earlier. I told you to get out of that building and you disobeyed my order. I don’t know who you think you’re impressing with stunts like that, but rest assured that crap won’t be tolerated. However, you…”

“I wasn’t pulling a stunt,” she interrupted, “nor was I trying to impress anyone. I really did hear a baby cry. Maybe it’s because I’m a woman and somehow innately more in tune to things like that, but you can give me all the orders you want and if there’s anyone,
anyone
still inside alive, I’m going in after them. It’s who I am. It’s what I do. It’s how I sleep at night, knowing I did everything I could to save a life. No regrets. You need to fire me for it, go ahead. I’ll totally understand. But don’t ask me to consider a survivability profile when I go in there. Don’t ask me
not
to save a life.” Her voice was getting steadily louder, and her temper was showing, but more than that, her past. “I’d rather die than know I left someone in there alive, just waiting to die.”