Hearts on Fire (3 page)

“Jess,” Chief Clay ran his hand through his hair in frustration, “I was just about to add, before I was interrupted, that you did the right thing. The baby lived. The mother lived too, and she can rest easy knowing she can still hold her baby because of you. In this case, you did the right thing.”

He reached for the door to open it for her. “Good job. Now relax for a couple of days. You need a ride home?”

Jess snorted out a laugh. “Hell no. I’m stone-cold sober. Most of my beer went on Cort’s face.”

Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she stepped out into the cold, dark night.

Chapter Three

The next day dawned cold and rainy. Jess hated winter rain. It was relentless and miserable, just like her thoughts. She sipped at her lemon tea as the rivulets ran down her windowpane, and she thought about Cort.

Closing her eyes, she relived that kiss. If she had any doubts about her feelings for him, those doubts were now laid to rest. Her heart skipped a beat in her chest as she remembered the softness of his lips, the warmth of his hands on her back as he pulled her in close.

Valentine’s Day was the day after tomorrow. She’d done a fairly decent job of avoiding the kind of places that displayed frilly hearts and teddy bears and candy. Every heart seen was another rip in her own heart. Avoiding all that seemed pointless now.

Her heart had already ripped wide open again.

Raw emotions and disjointed thoughts tumbled around in her head. What to do about Cort? How to avoid him? Did she even want to avoid him? Taking him back just wasn’t being true to herself, as if he’d done no wrong, as if he’d never hurt her.

As if the last year never happened.

But it did happen. And she still had very strong feelings for him.

He’d left her, plain and simple. It was the story of her life. Everyone she loved left her. First her parents, then Grandma Kate, and finally Cort.

But Cort came back. Shouldn’t that count for something?

Sighing wearily, she donned her coat and grabbed her rain hat.

Jess walked through the entrance to Cade’s Valley Heritage Hospital and up to the information desk, past elderly and young biding their time in the waiting room. A toddler’s wail competed with the talking head on the T.V. hanging in the corner of the soothingly blue room, and the smells of cafeteria food greeted Jess’s nose.

“Hey Martha, busy day?”

The lady behind the information desk scratched her head under her dyed-red poof of hair with the eraser of her pencil as she responded, “Jessica, honey, you’ve got to come visit me more often! How have you been?”

“Well, I’ve managed to stay out of this place so I guess I’m pretty good.” She smiled sweetly at the overweight woman, dressed in a purple polyester suit from two decades ago, complete with shoulder pads. Her makeup and nails were meticulous, if not a bit overdone, but she was a kind and jovial soul and Jess had a soft spot for her.

Martha cackled. “I heard you saved that Ramsey baby yesterday.”

“I played a part in the rescue, but only a part. I have a great team that deserves the credit more than I. Is the baby still here?”

“Oh yes. Let me see here.” She ran her long, perfect fingernail down a list of patients on her clipboard and tapped it in triumph as she found the entry. “Room two-one-five. Take the elevator over there on the right.”

“Thanks Martha.” She stuffed her rain hat into her coat pocket as she turned toward the elevators.

“You’re welcome, honey. You take care now.”

Jess rode the elevator up, wondering why she hadn’t taken the stairs instead, and wondering why people on elevators stared stupidly at the floor numbers over the closed door like their lives depended on it.

She entered the room slowly and quietly. The hospital bed had been pushed over to the wall, occupied by a sleeping woman, and in the middle of the room was an infant bed, the kind that newborns are placed into. The baby seemed so small and helpless hooked up to a respirator, and Jess’s eyes teared up at the sight of it.

Moving quietly so as not to wake either occupant, she stood at the lower end of the baby’s bed and glanced at the chart hanging there.

“Michael,” she whispered, watching his little chest rise and fall, overwhelmed by the connection she was feeling to this fragile life. A tear slid down her face. “You’re a lucky little boy — your mama made it out too.”

She watched him sleep, and her mind slid into the memory from her own childhood, lying in this very hospital at the tender age of six, her Grandma Kate holding her hand as tears welled up in her eyes, telling her that her mother and father both died in the fire.

Now at age twenty-four, she still dreamed about that fire, could smell the acrid smoke, could feel it burning her eyes, her throat, as it consumed her house. She could feel the fireman grabbing her around her waist, hear her own screams for her mother and father echoing in her head.

It was a moment she’d never forget. It was what drove her to choose the path of a firefighter. If only one life could be saved by her actions, it could somehow make up for her own loss.

Grandma Kate, a very caring lady, had raised Jessica as best she could, but smothered her too much after losing her daughter in that fire. She’d died just shy of Jess’s seventeenth birthday and Jess had been shuffled from relative to relative until she was eighteen. She was never ill treated, but she was never loved the way a parent loves a child.

The memory of it squeezed her heart, and she shook her head to clear her thoughts.

“You’re that woman that saved my baby.”

Jess jumped, startled by the woman’s raspy voice.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Jess moved to the woman’s bedside and gently shook her outstretched hand. “How are you feeling? I’m Jess, by the way.”

“Ellie Ramsey.” She took a sip of her water with one hand and raised her bed to a sitting position with the push of a button. “I know who you are. Saw you in today’s paper.” Pointing feebly at the newspaper on the windowsill, she continued, “You’re a hero.”

Jess glanced at the paper. Front page, her big eyes stared into her own black-and-white version with the caption “Local Firefighter Saves Baby.” Surprise and embarrassment flushed her cheeks.

“I’m not a hero. I was just doing my job.”

“You’re a hero to me. Running into a burning building is like jumping out of a perfectly good airplane. Why would anybody do that? You saved my baby. I can’t tell you how grateful I am.” A fit of coughing overtook her and Jess handed the woman her water.

“Is your baby going to be okay?” Jess fussed with the woman’s covers, smoothing and arranging as Ellie laid back against the bed, exhausted from her coughing fit.

“They tell me he’ll be fine. There’s a chance he may develop asthma, but I can live with that.” Another coughing fit ensued. “And so can he.”

“No more talking. Just rest now. I’m sorry I disturbed your sleep, and I’m glad to hear you’ll both be fine.”

Jess stole one final look at the sleeping baby.

“Thank you so much.” Ellie closed her eyes, and Jess slipped out the door.

Closing the door softly behind her, she turned and stepped right into a broad, muscular chest. She knew before her eyes even traveled up to the chiseled face that it was Cort. Surprise, irritation, and little flutters of excitement all competed with her face’s features.

“What are you doing here?” She let the irritation win over her voice but the proximity to his warm body won over her face, a hot red blush burning over her cheeks.

Unexpectedly seeing him unnerved her, and her thoughts scattered like leaves blown by the wind, unable to remember where she’d been going. Breathing in his seductive male scent combined with the hint of leather from his jacket, her body remembered every touch, every feeling between them, and a little stab of pleasure ached deep inside her.

“I came to check on the Ramsey baby.” He glanced warily down at her hands. “No mugs of beer, I hope.”

A quiet laugh escaped her lips. “Not at the moment, but I bet if I look around here I’ll find a nice ripe bedpan.”

Cort snorted out a laugh and stepped closer to Jess. She stepped backward, her back now against the wall, and he placed his hands against the wall on both sides of her, trapping her between. She squirmed uncomfortably, eyes darting from side to side looking for an escape, finally accepting her fate and looking him in the eye in resignation. Amusement and pleasure danced in his melted-chocolate brown eyes, and her gaze roamed to his lips, remembering how warm, how
familiar
they’d felt last night, and a part of her wanted an encore.

Okay, all parts of her wanted an encore.

“We should talk,” he murmured. His thumb was lazily rubbing against the skin of her neck, his warm breath stirring in her ear.

Jess’s heartbeat quickened and she yearned to reach up and stroke his cheek, to touch his hair. Her body was betraying her again and she was helpless to stop it.

“Cort…”

“Hmm?”

She closed her eyes against the onslaught of emotions coursing through her veins.

“You left me. I haven’t heard from you in a year. What exactly are we supposed to talk about? I mean, we’ve both moved on.”

He gazed deeply into her eyes, his own brown eyes smoldering with want, with need. “Have we?” His thumb skimmed along her lower lip. “Have we really?”

Jess drew a deep breath of frustration.
Have we moved on
? She thought what she’d been doing the past year
was
moving on. But really, she’d been in limbo, waiting.

Waiting for Cort Cavanaugh to come back.

The realization was like a slap in the face. She’d buried her hopes down deep but they were there. Had always been there. She hadn’t moved on at all. There was nothing different about her life from the previous year, except that Cort wasn’t in it.

“Why did you never try to contact me?” Her voice was tortured, and Cort could see the pain in her eyes.

“Jess, I did. At first. You never took my calls so I stopped trying. I can take a hint.”

Jess remembered curling up in bed, her pillow wet from tears, ignoring the phone when it rang. Stubbornness, pure and simple. And an Irish temper that just couldn’t be tamed. What if she’d answered those calls? How different would the past year have been?

Sensing her internal struggle, Cort changed the subject. “Why’d you come here? Breaking your own rules now?”

Jess looked at her feet and pushed a strand of hair out of her face. “I don’t know. The baby, it just tugged at my heart for some reason. I guess I needed to know.” She shrugged. “Needed to see with my own eyes.”

“That’s a dangerous game to play. It can lead to heartbreak.”

“No more dangerous than the rest of my life.”
And my heart’s already broken
.

Cort leaned in and tucked another stray tendril behind Jess’s ear. “I didn’t move on.” His voice was low, amusement in his eyes replaced by tenderness. “And I’m back. And I want you back.” His finger skimmed along her jawline, sending a quiver into her stomach, and he tilted her chin up, searching her eyes, for what she did not know.

And apparently finding what he was looking for.

His lids closed briefly, his face awash with relief, and the faintest of smiles touched his lips. Jess anticipated another fiery kiss. Instead, he pressed his lips softly to her forehead, then turned and walked away.

Jess swirled the dark red wine around and around in the glass, her feet propped up on the leather ottoman, her eyes mesmerized by the fire in her fireplace. Reaching over to the side table next to her, she plucked a chocolate from the heart-shaped box and popped it into her mouth. The fragrance of the two dozen roses delivered with the chocolates drifted through the room, the smell of the promise of spring, of love. The fire crackled and snapped and she snuggled deeper into the Sherpa throw tucked around her body.

She reached for the card that came with the flowers and read it for the umpteenth time — “My heart is yours always. Cort.”

“Damn you, Cort Cavanaugh, for taking the wind out of my sails,” she announced to nobody at all. How the hell was she supposed to muster up some anger and discontent when he pulled a stunt like this? Where was that red-hot temper now?

She had to hand it to him — the man knew the way to her heart. Jess wondered if chocolate was the downfall of all womankind, or just her. Her own heart was melting just like the little chocolate hearts delighting her tongue.

A movement at the window caught her eye and she watched through a gap in the curtains with childish awe as the rain transformed into big, fat snowflakes floating softly down. But her pleasure dampened as she sat back, looking around her cozy but lonely house, unable to share the moment with anyone.

She sighed in resignation. Cort had offered his olive branch. She supposed the ball was in her court and she’d have to swallow her Irish pride and make the next move.

Chapter Four

Jess crunched through the snow to her truck. The smell of fresh snow drifted along with the snowflakes that landed on her long lashes, and a soft hush blanketed the town. The clouds were an ash-gray smudge in the sky but it couldn’t dampen her spirits today. She was a woman on a mission.

She had no idea where Cort was staying, but she was certain that she needed to figure out a way to fix the rift between them. Since tomorrow was Valentine’s Day, she had several options to choose from. Sexy lingerie? Dinner? Hot sex? All of the above? It would be a work day so technically she’d have to wait until the day after to show him that her heart was still his for the taking.

With hope in her heart for the first time in a year, she stopped at Starbucks for the morning cup of Joe she needed to ease the haze of last night’s wine. She groaned in disgust that she’d eaten every last piece of chocolate from the heart-shaped box, wondering if there was a special place in hell for such gluttonous behavior.