“That woman. The doctor. She walked past this morning.”
“The one you…” Ritchie lifted his hands, but luckily, he stopped short of completing a lewd dramatization with his fingers of that encounter with Harper. Maybe it was bad form to have told Ritchie, but he was Jakub’s best friend after all.
“Yeah. That one.”
“So what happened with that again? She backed off?”
“After we… I bolted then never answered her texts.”
“Ooh. Aurelia would have my balls for that.” This time, Ritchie spared no imagination in the demonstration with his hands of the ball squeeze he’d face for such a relationship infraction.
Jakub laughed. No doubt his friend didn’t mind the threat of bodily punishment from his wife. He’d admitted sometimes he pissed her off on purpose because the makeup sex was so hot. Jakub envied their relationship, if not the slightly dysfunctional way they showed their love for each other. “Then I ran into her at the hospital and tried to explain. She wouldn’t give me the time of day.”
“Oh, that’s rough.”
So rough Jakub couldn’t find a reply. Harper’s cold shoulder rankled him still. Especially when her loneliness and her need for tenderness radiated off of her like smoke from a grease fire.
Later that afternoon, Jakub lay in his bed at home, trying to sleep. Seeing Harper again had reminded him of the pain she must have felt dragging her leg this morning. He hated pain that he couldn’t fix. His mind drifted to Samara then and wouldn’t let go.
Like so many nights, he lay awake imagining the last night Samara spent in the hospital. A thousand scenarios of her expressions, her last words, the suffering sounds she may have made as she lay dying alone—while he was at work—had played out in his mind.
Finally, he moved to the couch and distracted himself with his book about wildfire containment strategies. With California’s growing wildfire season, there was an ongoing shortage of firefighters and rescuers. He’d often thought about volunteering one day. Not like he had a family to keep him back.
Soon his eyelids grew heavy and he drifted off to sleep.
The cool air of the room woke him. The book fell from his lap to the floor. He picked it up and walked to the window. A thin blanket of white insulated the world outside.
On his way back to his bedroom, he passed the mail basket on his entryway table. The corner of an unopened purple envelope poked from behind a stack of white envelopes—the invitation to Aurelia’s cousin’s wedding this weekend that he’d failed to respond to.
Ritchie had a boisterous family that was the population of a small country. Jakub had always imagined having a half dozen children. Samara hadn’t agreed, arguing she hadn’t aspired in life to be a breeding animal, but she’d promised after a few years of marriage to try to get pregnant. They hadn’t even begun to try before she was ripped from the Earth.
By sitting here on his ass, doing nothing, Jakub would only ensure his house would always be empty.
He grabbed the envelope and tore through the flap. Moving back to the window with the invitation still in hand, he wondered if it was too late to RSVP.
He didn’t want to meet a woman at the wedding—which, no doubt, had been Ritchie and Aurelia’s intention behind the invitation.
There was one woman Jakub could imagine taking as his date.
He retrieved his coat from the front closet, shrugged into it, and slipped the invitation into his pocket.
Cold shoulder or no, he’d try to get to the fire beneath Harper’s smoke.
Chapter Fourteen
After a long day of work, her leg throbbed from her ill-conceived morning walk then one too many laps through the hospital to put out this or that fire. Harper sank onto her leather couch and watched the snow trickle to a stop beyond the bay window.
Thankfully, she wouldn’t need to shovel or call a service while she was in Atlanta. Since she lived in a townhouse with only two side-by-side units, they had no homeowner’s association that arranged for snow removal.
She peeked through her drapes at the blanket of white on her lawn. At the same moment, a large pick-up truck with a dual cab pulled up to her curb.
She snatched her hand back, letting the drapes fall closed.
It couldn’t be him.
The solid metal sound of a substantial automobile door closing. Then crunching of boots on snow growing louder.
It was him.
She stood and walked to the entry, not committed to answering the door, but she didn’t want him to be able to see her from the window. Holding the bannister of the stairs for support, she waited.
The hollow sound of knuckles on wood rang out. She jumped even though she’d expected it. Her heart flopped about in her chest as thoughts raced through her mind. Should she let him in? Should she answer at all? What did they really have to say to each other?
She flicked her head and raised her chin. She’d already moved past that whole awkward encounter and set her sights on Miles. Miles who possessed many of the qualities she looked for in a man—a prominent position in his career, a salary to match, impeccable personal style, and during the conference dinners they’d attended together he never drank enough to become inebriated.
Miles was a rare find. She shouldn’t have waited so long to say yes to him.
The door shook with a second pounding, and she jumped again.
Jakub must know she was in here. Her lights were on. She’d been peeking out the window when his truck pulled up after all. He would have seen her. There was no avoiding him.
Part of her did wonder what he had to say for himself. She took a deep breath and opened the door.
Immediately, she regretted keeping him out in the cold. His hair was powdered with snowflakes. He looked like…dessert.
“Hi,” she said quietly, opening the door wider.
“Hi,” he said, matching her volume, making no move to come closer. His eyes were filled with concern.
Her annoyance fell away. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here again, to be honest.”
He laughed a little darkly. “Me neither.”
“It’s freezing out there.” She stepped back and waited for him to enter.
He hesitated.
“Come on out of the cold.” Whatever he had to say for himself, she wouldn’t make him say it in freezing temperatures.
He stomped his boots against the cement threshold outside her door to get rid of the excess snow before entering.
The thoughtful gesture caused a little satisfaction to well up in her chest. She fought it down. “Don’t worry about your boots.”
But he was already loosening the laces. Removing a boot. She wasn’t sure how to stop him. She didn’t know if she wanted to stop him. The intimacy of the act, of him undressing so comfortably in her home was somehow invasive and yet at the same time a little thrilling.
She clamped a hand around the bannister. “So you’ve come to explain yourself?”
He kicked off his second boot and stood to his full height before her. “Yes, I have.”
Suddenly faced with his reasons, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. She whirled away and moved to the living room where she sat on the couch.
He followed and sat on the opposite end. The way the couch dipped with his weight brought her attention to the musculature of his frame. She cleared her throat.
He pointed. “Your knee.”
She looked to the joint and covered it with a palm then stretched out the leg. “It’s doing much better.” She met his gaze, and he flicked his away from her.
“Glad to hear it.” He ran his palm back and forth over the arm of the couch. “Listen, I…” he met her eyes again and his were hopeful, yet shadowed by some darker emotion. “I want to apologize for how I walked out on you. And for not responding to your texts. You didn’t deserve that.”
She waved a hand. “You already said that.”
“But there’s more I didn’t say.” He nailed her with a searing gaze.
“It’s just…it’s been awhile since I’ve been…involved with a woman.”
She looked away at his reference to his sex life. He could barely get out the words, and she wondered if there was more he wanted to say, but he fell silent. “You didn’t need to come all this way to explain.”
“That’s not the only reason I came.”
She swallowed and slowly turned to meet his eyes again. His were so intense she had to blink. “Go on.”
One cheek hooked up in a smile. “Do you have any plans this weekend?”
Her lips parted open but she had no words. Was he really asking her on a date? When she’d already said she was busy forever? The man was persistent; she had to give him credit. “Actually, I’m going to Atlanta.”
“Atlanta? Why?”
That entitled way he so easily pried into her life brought to mind the ER trip when he’d acted like a family member awaiting her X-ray results. Her chest warmed at the memory despite herself. “I’m going to help treat a doctor who contracted Ebola in Nigeria and is being transferred there.”
Jakub stood. “You’re what?”
She’d thought she’d explained herself fairly well. In case he truly hadn’t understood, she repeated, “I’m leaving for Atlanta tomorrow for two weeks to work on this infectious disease case.”
“Ebola.” He said flatly as a statement, not a question.
“Yes.”
“The disease that kills ninety percent of its victims.”
“Yes. Well, with proper intervention, the mortality rate has been reduced—closer to fifty percent.”
He walked to the entertainment stand before turning on his heel. “You can’t do that.”
“Well, I am doing that.” If there was one thing she couldn’t stand, it was a man who tried to tell a woman what she could and could not do. Her father never let her mother go out with her girlfriends, and yet he’d disappear for days on a bender with his drinking buddies. “I happen to be one of the country’s experts on rare infectious diseases.”
He shifted his weight from leg to leg then took off in a cagey pace to the window. He parted the curtain and looked out into the night. “I don’t doubt your skills, Harper.” Turning back to her, he said, “But it’s too risky.”
“Sorry, but I don’t really need your opinion on my activities.” This whole conversation struck her as absurd. What made him think he could march in here and tell her what to do? They weren’t even dating. Even if they were dating, she would never let a man limit her. “You have no business telling me what to do.”
“I’m not telling you what to do.” His voice wavered a little. “I’m just telling you I don’t like it.”
She stood and crossed her arms over her chest. “In case you forgot, I’m a physician. I specialized in a field that sometimes puts me at risk.”
“You don’t need to remind me.” He rolled his eyes to the ceiling.
What a hypocrite. “Need I remind you that you also took a job that puts you at risk constantly?”
He peeled his gaze off the ceiling and pinned her with his fiery blue eyes. “My risk was deciding to become a firefighter. Everything after that is just a day at the office.”
“Then you know exactly what I mean.” She took a step toward him.
He moved closer so they were only a few feet apart. “Harper,” he said in a hard, flat tone.
His deep, steady voice, the intensity of his concern turned her belly soft. She didn’t like controlling men, she reminded herself.
“Jakub,” she took another step closer then stopped. “I appreciate your concern, but—”
He reached a hand to the small of her back and pressed her to him. Then his lips were covering hers, exploring, devouring. Shocked—but not unpleasantly so—she gasped for air. But he continued kissing her relentlessly, leaving her to catch her breath in the nanoseconds his lips left hers before bearing down again.
All thoughts fled her brain but one: savor this man. This man, who was savoring her. She slid her arms under his to cradle the broad muscles of his back and drank him in. Rational thinking gave way to a primal hunger like she’d never known before. The enthusiasm with which he claimed her made her head spin. His nearness alone sent her order of things tumbling into chaos. His touch demanded that the emotions he stirred were important above all else.
He slid a hand down from the side of her face to her shoulder. Anchoring his touch there, he pulled out of the kiss. His forehead was inches from hers, his scent permeating her, the flavor of him lingering on her tongue.
Sternly, he said, “Don’t go.”
She placed her hands on his biceps and pushed him away from her. Backing up a step, she struggled for control, her heart battling with her brain.
The thrill of being in his arms lingered even as she hardened against his command. “You can’t ask me that. Of course, I’m going.”
He reached to touch beneath her chin with a finger. “Please.” His voice lowered so it was nearly a whisper.
The gentle gesture drained the strength from her body and the thoughts from her brain. For a brief moment she forgot why she was protesting. She raised a palm and placed it over his chest. His pecs were absurdly toned.
She couldn’t lose herself in this cloud of emotion. Just because she wanted him—because she genuinely liked him—didn’t mean they were right for each other. She moved away.
“I don’t want you in that kind of danger.” His voice rose, sounding like an overbearing boyfriend.
“Well, then don’t imagine it. It’s not really your business anyway. We’re in no way attached.”
He flinched. A sting smarted in her own chest.
“You’re right.” He retreated a few steps toward the entryway. “We’re not.”
Her heart sank at his words. But that was ridiculous. Clearly, they were wrong for each other—he’d realized it too and was getting ready to leave.
“Not if you’re going to be ordering me around, we’re not.” The words left her mouth before she could think what they meant. She’d just implied she would consider dating him under certain conditions. That hadn’t really been what she’d meant to say. But with him suddenly here before her, she didn’t know what she meant to do or say around him.
Jakub looked out the window and ran a hand through his hair. For a long moment, he stood and stared, maybe watching the snowflakes fall beyond the glass.
She should say something to help hasten his departure. But no words came.
Finally, turning to her, he nodded. “Fine. I’m leaving. Have fun in Atlanta.” He strode to the entryway and wiggled a foot back into a boot.
She followed him and leaned on the bannister, wrapping her hands around the pillar to steady herself, thankful for the snow that required elaborate footwear that delayed his departure. There was something she still wanted to say to him. She just wasn’t sure what.
He crouched to tie his laces, which he proceeded to do with an almost frightening strength and swiftness.
Finished, he stood and gave her a quick glance. “What I meant to say was be safe in Atlanta.” His tone was apologetic. “But if you think working with Ebola is fun, then have fun too.” By the end, his voice had hardened with sarcasm.
He moved toward the door but didn’t leave. He closed his eyes and inhaled before meeting her gaze again. “I hoped you might be my date at a wedding this weekend. But apparently that wasn’t a very good idea.”
A sharp lump lodged in her throat. “I’m sorry.” And she was sorry—for hurting him and, damn the lapse in her logic, for missing out on an opportunity to be near him.
He opened the door and strode through. Before closing it, he said, “Call me when you get back from Atlanta. Please? I’d at least like to know you’re safe.”
Without waiting for her response, he left.
Chapter Fifteen
Jakub sat in his home office, staring at the purple wedding invitation in the mail basket atop his desk. He’d thought maybe he could endure a wedding
with Harper as his plus one. That he’d explain, and maybe they could start over, begin dating for real instead of the way he kept showing up in her home and kissing her.
But her announcement that she’d be jumping into the Ebola crisis had thrown him. The potential danger of the situation pushed some hidden button that set him off. He hated the idea she might be harmed and he could do nothing about it.
Despite her distancing words, she’d leaned into that kiss, and for a few luscious seconds, she’d given herself over to him. Until he’d demanded she not go. Like a slap to the face, he realized he was already in over his head with Harper.
The thought of her at risk for contracting a disease that hardly anyone survived… Fear clutched at his chest. Already he didn’t want to lose Harper. And she wasn’t even his to lose.
Harper was smart, strong, and sexy as hell. For a time, she’d been open to his help. He laughed darkly. It had only taken a crack of her kneecap to expose that sliver of vulnerability.
He couldn’t help but admire her stubbornness, her dedication to her career. The way she stood her ground when he’d gone all demanding in her townhouse made his cock take notice. So much that he couldn’t resist kissing her. He wanted to kiss her again. And so much more.
He tore his gaze from the envelope and got his checkbook from the cabinet. He wrote a check to the couple named on the wedding invitation. On the little rectangle of cardstock, he wrote out his regrets, wished them a long, happy, and healthy marriage, sealed the envelope and placed a stamp on the corner.
May this couple never know how marriage—how life—can be lost in an instant.
He took the envelope to the living room and placed it on the entry table then sank into the couch and turned on the football game.
Football had never been his sport, but as a man there was an unspoken requirement to keep somewhat up to date so he could participate in conversations. Soccer was another story. He preferred playing to watching, but he hadn’t played in years. He liked the beach volleyball tournaments the fire department held on the lakeshore in the summer. But summer was a long way away. Beyond the window, large lazy flakes of snow continued to fall.
A Beautiful Fire (Love at Lincolnfield Book 4) Page 9
