One Fiery Night

One Fiery Night

Em Petrova

Firehouse 5, Book One

Firefighter Luke Puckett doesn’t want to get involved with anyone; not after his brother perished fighting a fire, leaving behind a wife and four kids. Then Luke pulls a woman and her child out of a burning house, and is stunned to find she’s his college ex. Though he fights to stay away, Luke’s desire for her lush curves is impossible to battle.

Josie Springer escapes the enormous house fire with nothing but the clothes on her back and her daughter. As she begins to recuperate from her losses, she finds she’s gained something bigger since Luke walked back into her life. She’s always held a candle for this lover who dumped her with little explanation.

While their relationship sears between the sheets, Josie and Luke still harbor personal doubts it will work—until a near tragedy forces them take another look.

One Fiery Night

Em Petrova

Chapter One

The woman’s shriek reached Luke’s ears even above the roar of flames. The walls rippled with fire and the air was so clogged with black smoke he could barely see his hand in front of his face.

But I’ve gotta find her.

He moved swiftly but gingerly through the burning house, carefully placing his heavy boots where the beams most likely ran beneath the floor. He couldn’t afford to step through the wooden planks and breach a horizontal channel of fire between the ceiling of the lower story and the floor of the upper.

All his training flooded into his mind. But a sixth sense took over, and that’s exactly what he’d been counting on. The instinct to find his victim.

He moved down the hall as fast as he could, away from the scorching heat. The staircase was on fire. Why did they always catch before the victims could get out?

Dragging in a deep breath, he threw out his senses and continued on. His oxygen mask fed him precious air—air the inhabitants of this house didn’t have.

He could almost hear his chief’s voice echoing within the safe walls of his mind.
Move your ass, Lieutenant.

Luke reached a closed door.
What’s behind door number one?
He put out his bare hand—he never wore gloves—and touched the wooden slab. Warm but not searing.

The scream sounded again from his right and he abandoned the door, practically running through the upstairs, following that voice.

“Where are you, darlin’?” He spoke into his mask.

“Who you callin’ darlin’, Lucifer? Find the woman and get out!” His chief’s voice filled the communication device in his ear.

A grin stretching his face, he plowed on, feeling walls, doors. The house seemed to hum like a giant teapot simmering on a stove. If they were lucky, they had three minutes. Four tops.

“Fuck, where are you?” He turned toward another room, pressed a palm to the door and pushed it open, bracing himself for the worst.

A woman flew at him, arms and legs flailing before his vision, blonde hair and tear-streaked face red from the heat and crying.

“My little girl! She’s in there! Hurry!” She pointed to a closed door.

Luke’s blood ran cold but he quickly checked his reaction. In Firehouse 5, he was known for his ability to remain stoic and to get the job done. But he didn’t like the idea of another door with a child trapped behind it. Where did it lead?

Mentally, he laid out the house. Simple two-story Victorian structure. One staircase? He fucking hoped so. Sometimes back staircases leading between a maid’s room and the kitchen existed in these older homes. If that kid was trapped in that room with its own staircase and the kitchen below was on fire…

He wrapped his fingers around the frantic woman’s upper arms and dipped his head close to hers so she could understand him through his mask when he gave his order. “Get down. Get low. Don’t follow me. Stay right here, and I’ll come back for you.”

Her mouth was opened in a silent scream, her face a mask. With a shock, he recognized those dainty features and her full-lipped, wide mouth.

No, it’s not Josie. Get your ass in there and save that kid!

The woman was in shock. He saw it in the stunned way she stood, shoulders stiff and face blank. Terror did that to people. Dammit, if he couldn’t get her to follow his commands, he’d end up treating her for smoke inhalation as well as shock.

Into his hear, his chief’s voice boomed. “You okay, Lucifer? Haul ass. We’re holding off the flames as best we can, but the whole structure is leaning.”

“Yeah, I feel it. I’ve got the woman but there’s a kid too.” With that, he shoved the woman down with a hand on her spine. Her knees struck the floor and she remained in this position, as still as if he’d knocked her unconscious.

Twisting toward the door, he assessed it in a blink. Not scorching, but hot.
Fuck, and locked too.
Chances were smoke had breached that space and the child was dying…

“Not today!” He kicked in the door with all the strength in his thigh muscles. It slammed off the interior wall—a wall that was shimmering with heat. Waves formed before his eyes and he lunged into the space, scouring it for the figure of a child.

Black smoke roiled from what was indeed a back staircase. A glance told him the fire was licking up the walls. In seconds, the whole place could crumble.

No child in the corners or under the bed. That left only the closet. He whipped open the door and saw her curled into a tight ball, fragile arms spun around her legs, eyes wide with terror.

He lunged forward and scooped her up, then in three strides reached the other room. At the moment he didn’t know whether to curse these old Victorian houses with the rooms running right into each other or celebrate them.

Grasping the woman around the waist, he plucked her off her knees and into his hold. With both mother and child in hand, he made haste toward the window. The woman gathered the child to her chest, freeing his one hand. With jerky movements, he threw the window open and shoved out the screen.

“We see you, Lucifer. Ladder coming your way.”

The cool air of the night didn’t permeate the thick fire response gear he wore and he couldn’t breathe anything but the air coming from the oxygen tank on his back, but the woman and child drew deep draughts into their lungs. Luke’s heart warmed as the ladder swung into view. And then he placed the little girl into the waiting firefighter’s arms, victory a sweet taste in his soul.

* * * * *

The social worker with the kindly brown eyes and the gentle expression placed a foam cup of coffee into Josie’s trembling hand. Josie kept her other hand locked around Maggie’s upper arm, afraid to stop touching her daughter.

I almost lost her
, she said to herself for the twentieth time. She drank in her daughter’s pale face, round, blue eyes and upturned nose. People said Maggie looked just like her when she was a child. Except Josie was certain she’d never worn that tight-lipped look of fear.

“Ms. Springer, can I bring you some food? The cafeteria is closed, but there are always sandwiches.”

Josie shook her head. “I’m fine.” She couldn’t think of eating. She’d lost her house, her possessions, all of Maggie’s baby pictures—but thank God she hadn’t lost Maggie. “Did they discover where the fire started?”

The social worker nodded. “With the car. It was parked in an attached garage…?”

Shock ripped through Josie. “Y-yes.” She always parked there rather than on the busy street. Last year when she’d finally gotten the last of her ex-husband’s junk out of the way, she’d been thrilled to have private off-street parking.

She stared straight ahead at the pale walls of the hospital counseling center. After she and Maggie had been thoroughly checked for injuries and given some oxygen to counteract any smoke inhalation, they’d been brought here and a social worker assigned to them. Because they were now homeless.

“Let me get this straight. Our house and everything burned. And we also have
no car
?”

The social worker’s brows drew together and her mouth turned down. “I’m very sorry. It’s always a blow to the victims of a fire to discover what you’ve lost. The important thing is you escaped with your lives. The rest can be replaced.”

Josie suddenly felt very small. She gulped back her tears and straightened her shoulders. “Of course you’re right.” Pulling Maggie onto her lap, she dropped her chin to the baby-fine, honey-blonde head. The fruity scents of children’s shampoo filled her nose, mingled with the reek of smoke.

The social worker continued, “We’ve set you up in a local hotel. You have seven days there. Hopefully by that time, you’ll have some other arrangements made. You say you don’t have family to help you?”

She shook her head. “Not in this city. And I can’t leave because of my job.”
And the custody arrangements.
Maggie’s father had been adamant that his daughter wasn’t moving too far away from him. Josie sighed. He was a good father, if he hadn’t been a faithful husband. His sexy, redheaded coworker had benefitted after Josie was snipped from the picture—getting trips to sunny destinations, luxury cars and the comfortable house.

The hollow cavern in Josie’s belly returned as she thought about her house. All gone. Everything. She didn’t have a pair of shoes to go to work in and Maggie had lost her prized teddy bear.

At least Josie had good insurance to cover the losses, but it might take months to receive a check. In the meantime, she’d have to empty her savings. Probably rent an apartment.

“Who was the fireman who pulled us out? I’d like to thank him.”

A grin stretched the social worker’s face. “You and everyone else. The press is already after him, and he’s been given an award for heroism. It seems the house had been about to fall and they only send one man in on missions like that.”

Josie sat forward, adjusting Maggie on her lap. The little girl was nodding off—it was early morning and she had gotten no sleep. “Do you know his name?”

“No, I don’t, but I’ll find out for you. Wait right here.” She patted Josie’s hand, stood up, and vanished into the bustling hospital.

“Like we have anywhere else to go,” she murmured to herself.

Maggie’s eyelids fluttered open and then shut again slowly. Josie’s heart broke and wept for the ordeal her daughter had endured. But she was well aware that the end could have been much worse. Fortunately she only had to replace a teddy bear. And even some of the pictures could be gained back because Maggie’s dad had an album or two.

Josie rocked her daughter out of years of habit. Minutes passed and the sounds of the hospital blurred into the background. She stared at the pale wall, exhausted but unable to sleep in this hard chair with Maggie in her arms.

Suddenly the door opened again. She swung her gaze upward, expecting the kindly social worker, but a man walked in. Tall with bulky muscles and very short, wheat-colored hair. His face and forearms were a light golden tan. She could only imagine that tan ran all the way into his low-slung jeans.

She met his gaze and did a double take. Her breath caught in her throat.

“Luke?” Her voice was a harsh croak.

His features rippled, running through a display of unknown emotions, and then settled. He ran his very long fingers—she knew those fingers intimately—through his hair, sending it into spikes. A muscle jerked in his jaw.

“Yeah, it’s me. Are you okay, Josie?”

She shifted, dying to stand and be at his level, to wrap her arms around the man who had once consumed her college years. Right now, she ached to feel a strong set of arms around her. Being alone with the weight of the night’s events was working under her skin like a thousand needles, the sharp memories and loss drawing blood and tears. She couldn’t even lean on her asshole ex because he was off on spring break with
her
.

Tears blurred Josie’s vision.

Luke made a noise in his chest that instantly raised the fine hair on her body. That quiet sigh was almost a moan, and all too familiar after hearing him make it in bed so many times.

He crossed the room, his big boots thumping softly. Kneeling before her, he met her gaze fully. God, had he ever been this beautiful or rugged? Age had chiseled his features into those of a god. His wide-spaced ice-blue eyes pierced her. Even if her daughter’s weight wasn’t pinning her to the chair, she couldn’t have gained her feet. Her knees were suddenly jelly.

He nudged her chin up with his big thumb. The touch ignited her, sending shocks to her fingertips and toes, and low into her pussy.

“I knew when I saw you in that burning house that it was you,” he said gruffly.

“Wh-what? You saved me?” Her senses reeled. She tried to recall the figure of the firefighter who had rescued them, and could bring to mind only a broad man decked out in gear.

A smile tipped up the corner of his mouth—that smile she’d fallen for in advanced math. She’d asked the professor a question and glanced over to find Luke Puckett giving her that same smile.

Day-umm.

“Luke, thank you. How can I ever thank you enough?” she burst, barely holding her tears in check. She remembered how he hated to see her cry. Even when he broke up with her, he’d tried to soothe her tears.

He stroked her hair off her face, the touch zapping her anew. The mixture of tenderness and the well-known pressure of his fingers went straight to her pussy, robbing her of thought.

What’s wrong with me? I can’t react to him now, after my house just burned to the ground and we narrowly escaped.
Hell, she couldn’t react to him at all. He’d made it plain before they graduated that they needed to go their separate ways—that she’d never live that long-cherished dream of becoming his wife. Shortly after, she’d met Tony and they’d been married within a year.

Big mistake. But one that had granted her a beautiful daughter.

Luke’s gaze caressed her. She could nearly feel it moving over her face. He zeroed in on her lips. “You’re all right? They treated you for smoke inhalation?”

“Yes.” Her voice sounded entirely too breathless.