A Beautiful Fire (Love at Lincolnfield Book 4)

by Colette Dixon

  Harper leaned slightly forward to inspect the foot. “Looks to me like Jakub was right. It’s a fungus all right. Over the counter jock itch cream should clear that up. Try three times a day though, instead of twice like it says on the package.”

  Peter’s eyes glowed as though she’d given him a compliment. He lightly backhanded his wife’s thigh. “How about that? Handy to have a doctor in the family, eh?”

  “Dad!” Jakub said, his face instantly red. “God, you guys are impossible.”

  “It’s fine.” Harper tugged on the slack of Jakub’s pants by his knee, and he sat.

  The men talked about the soccer game, Peter gesticulating with the gravity of a congressman discussing a political strategy, his son rapt on his every analysis.

  Perhaps this was the appeal of sports. A diversion for father and son to bond over. Not something she’d experienced. But watching her lover’s easy manner with his father, the way the esoterica of player statistics connected the two men, her heart pinched with appreciation.

  Harper hid a smile with a bite of another apricot jam-filled cookie. “Delicious, Ms. Wojcik. Family recipe?”

  “Yes, my mother’s.” Irena sat on the bench next to the love seat.

  “My mother didn’t cook much. She was a nurse. She worked a lot.” Why was Harper spilling all this personal detail?

  Irena nodded with empathy. “And your father?”

  Jakub paused his conversation with his father and gave Harper a brief, but pointed look of concern.

  Harper returned her attention to her hostess. “He passed away when I was ten.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Brothers or sisters?”

  “No. Just me.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Irena looked gravely at her hands holding the platter on her lap.

  “Jeez, Mom.” Jakub said. “It’s not a tragedy to be an only child.”

  Sometimes, it had felt that way though.

  Harper’s phone dinged. She excused herself to check the device.

  A text from Yamato. Good luck tomorrow.

  Her scalp prickled. Tomorrow was the day grant recipients were to be announced. Harper had to trust that her proposal stood on its own.

  She’d left Jakub’s bed much too early to chase down some anxiety of Yamato’s about Gordoni getting the grant. She’d gotten halfway to the event the Chancellor was presiding over when she realized how ridiculous she was being. Gordoni’s proposal had no leg to stand on. Despite the Chancellor’s intimidation tactics, her center was clearly the logical candidate.

  So she had decided to try something new. She decided to let go. Maybe it was the comfort of Jakub’s strong arms around her the night before that lulled her to trust in a good outcome.

  By the time she’d decided to turn back, Jakub was due into work so there was no returning to his bed that morning. She’d gone home with a strange sense of having missed out on something important. She’d tried to reassure herself it was only time with Jakub she’d missed out on.

  “Everything okay?” It was Peter who held her gaze, concern in his eyes.

  “Yes. Just a work thing. Nothing urgent.”

  Jakub launched into an explanation of phage therapy, a rather good lay summary of the applications. He’d done a decent amount of research on the subject, in addition to the field work of shoveling shit.

  Thankfully, his sister walked in and interrupted the blank stares of his parents at Jakub’s lecture.

  Marianna was tragically hip, her hair in varying shades of blond and pink beneath black roots. She wore gold hoop earrings a small dog could fit through. An oversize top bared one of her shoulders.

  Irena and Peter both stood, quietly watching their daughter as if awaiting her reaction while Marianna’s gaze traveled to where Harper sat.

  Harper stood, poised for the imminent handshake.

  Marianna’s eyes froze on Harper then widened so slightly Harper wasn’t sure whether she had imagined the change in expression. “Hey.” The word was soft and meek, almost resigned.

  “Hi,” Harper extended her hand, and they shook.

  Marianna’s grip was as slack as her expression. “You’re some kind of doctor I heard.”

  “Yes, I’m an infectious disease specialist.”

  One hip thrust out as her chin flicked up. “Cool.” She swiveled to plant a kiss on her mom’s cheek, simultaneously reaching for a cookie, before sinking into the couch and throwing a leg over the side. “Who’s playing?”

  Everyone returned to their seats and listened as Peter explained the games both teams had endured in order to arrive at this round, while Harper felt strangely like she’d passed some kind of vetting. Could it be that Harper was the first woman Jakub had brought home since his wife passed? Regardless, a warm satisfaction washed through her at Marianna’s acceptance.

  Jakub swept a thumb over Harper’s knuckles. Leaning close, he said, “We can go. Just tell me when.”

  “I’m fine. I’m enjoying myself. Unless you want to go?”

  His gaze softened. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Good. Then we’re staying.”

  “Good.” He stared at the TV screen, without seeming to actually watch the game. Peter booed at a missed goal and Jakub shook a fisted hand in solidarity, but his mind still seemed occupied elsewhere. He glanced at her then tugged at her hand, pulling her to stand. “Come on, I want to show you something.”

  She followed him down the back corridor past a bathroom and a closed door then into a room with a desk and shelves lining the perimeter of two walls. Gold gleamed from the top shelf where trophies of the high school sports variety were arranged.

  “Yours?” Harper pointed.

  He shrugged. “I played soccer for a while. I don’t know why she holds on to those things.”

  “Because she’s proud of you.” She bumped her arm against his. “It’s sweet.”

  Jakub blushed and reached for a framed photo on the lower shelf above the desk. An old couple stood in front of a large tree, an expansive lawn behind them. “My grandparents.”

  “Where was this taken?”

  “Some public park in Warsaw.”

  “Are they…?”

  “Gone.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He shrugged and placed the photo back on the shelf. She wasn’t sure if this was the reason he’d brought her back here. But his casual sharing of the intimate relics of his past bound her closer to him, as though he’d invited her to join him under a warm blanket. She wanted to know more about him.

  Suddenly, he whirled to face her and gripped her hips, drawing her close to his body. A body that was so solid and so full of life, it was tempting to melt into him, but now her curiosity was piqued.

  “Have you ever been to Poland?”

  He tapped his forehead to hers and nodded gently. “Twice. Once when I was five and then when my grandfather died.”

  She didn’t want him to think about death, to be reminded of his late wife. Too late to avoid that now.

  He released her and sat on the little daybed against the far wall. She joined him.

  “He was the first dead person I ever saw.”

  Harper flinched. She’d seen many patients lifeless on the hospital bed and no doubt Jakub had seen his share. But the first dead person she’d seen was her own father. “My dad was my first.”

  Jakub gave her a painfully tender look.

  “My mom thought the closure of an open casket was important for me.”

  Jakub harrumphed. Why had she continued to go on about death, clearly steering him to memories of his wife?

  “Did he ever…hurt you?”

  Her throat went dry, and she swallowed. He wasn’t thinking about his wife at all. “Never physically.” Except for that one, harrowing, drunken car ride. “But he did endanger me.”

  He brushed a length of her hair behind her shoulder then leaned to place a kiss below her ear, sending a shiver through
her bones. His wife had lost not only her life, she’d lost a life with a very caring man.

  She didn’t want to dwell on her father and she was glad Jakub wasn’t pushing her to say more. She’d much rather focus on Jakub. “What was it you wanted to show me in here?”

  He moved his gaze from one of her eyes to the other, as if he couldn’t get enough of looking at her. “Nothing. I just wanted you to myself for a minute.”

  Harper smiled. He’d already shown her more than he knew. “This was your bedroom when you were a boy? Where you brought all your girlfriends?”

  Jakub barked out a laugh. “Not very many made it this far.”

  “I’m touched.” She meant it.

  He stood, a sort of jocular bravado animating his stance. “You’ve made it to the inner sanctuary of soccer trophies—the highest honor.”

  She pushed off the bed and took his hand. “Speaking of soccer, don’t you want to see how the game ends?”

  “I could give a shit less. I want to see how this evening ends with you.” Smiling, he tugged her hand and dragged her giggling back to the living room.

  Before Jakub could announce their departure, Harper asked, “Who’s winning?” sank into the couch, and turned her attention to Peter. She grabbed a fistful of popcorn out of the bag he held and began popping one kernel at a time into her mouth.

  Jakub stood, blinking down at her. Slowly, he joined her on the couch. He may want to get her home alone, but she was enjoying discovering who he was in this inner sanctum with his family far too much.

  They stayed another hour and a half.

  When she finally checked her watch and stood, preparing to make apologies before leaving, Jakub shot up next to her.

  Peter protested, “You can’t leave now. It’s tied one to one.”

  Jakub rolled his eyes. “And wait another hour for possibly one more goal?”

  Irena flicked a hand toward her husband. “Stop. Let them go. They want to be alone.”

  “Mom,” Jakub whined, sounding so much like an embarrassed teenaged boy.

  But his mom was right. Harper did want to be alone with Jakub. And she’d forced him to stay long enough. “It was a pleasure to meet you both. And you too, Marianna.”

  Marianna, who had seemed not to notice them re-enter the room, sprang up like a jack in the box, wrapped her arms around Harper and squeezed her in a tight hug before promptly collapsing into her same slack pose on the couch.

  “You come back anytime,” Irena shuffled them toward the door while Peter held up a hand in a static farewell wave. “I’ll make the kolachi. Do you like poppy seed? Or I can make apricot again.”

  “She’ll send you her order ahead.” Jakub brushed his mother off but gave her a swift kiss on the cheek.

  “Oh, I love poppy seed. But I’m sure I’d love any of your creations.” Harper had to strain to deliver the parting words over her shoulder, Jakub was yanking her so quickly out the door.

  In the cab of his truck outside his parent’s house, Jakub gave her a tender look as he took her hand. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “That was all kinds of awkward.” But there was no discomfort in his expression. In fact, he looked at her with a sort of gratefulness wrapped up in longing.

  She basked in the warmth of his gaze. “I liked your parents. They’re so welcoming.”

  “A little too much. Probably why Marianna won’t ever move out.”

  “I wouldn’t either if I had a mother who fed me like that.”

  “I can tell they love you already,” he said in a softer tone.

  If sharing foot fungus and cookies counted as loving someone. “You think so?”

  “They were practically planning the wedding.”

  Harper’s breath stopped in her throat. For one sweet moment, she allowed herself to imagine a house full of children. Decorating the Christmas tree in a living room with a fire roaring in a grand fireplace.

  She shook her head.

  “Are you okay?”

  She squeezed his hand. “I’m fine.”

  “The work text?” His face flooded with concern.

  God, the man was so sweetly attentive. It wasn’t the work text that had unsettled her, but she chose the easier topic to speak about. “The grant is announced tomorrow.”

  He gave her a shrewd look full of rock solid confidence. “You’ve got this.”

  She allowed herself a smile. His confidence was infectious. “I think so.”

  “And I’ve got you.” Jakub grabbed her by the waist and dragged her across the bench seat onto his lap.

  In his car outside his parents’ house, like a teenager, she kissed him. The emotions racing inside her, so hopeful and extreme, magnified beyond what she’d ever known for a man—she truly felt like a teenager again. Either that or she was losing her mind. But surrounded by his arms, lit on fire beneath his touch—to be his—was so incredibly good.

  She decided not to think about what was happening to her mind and her heart.

  Let go. Let herself have this, have him. Jakub Wojcik.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Sherise stood in the doorway of Harper’s office, moving a red plastic stirrer in circles in her coffee mug. “Nothing?”

  “No,” Harper responded tightly. “No emails yesterday or today from the Chancellor’s office.”

  Sherise pursed her lips as though she were thinking of how to word something. She sat on the little chair across from Harper’s desk. “Maybe he’s planning on telling you personally? Like on a phone call?”

  Harper dropped her head into her hand. As much as she’d like to believe she’d been awarded the grant, an uncomfortable pressure squeezed her chest. She wouldn’t stoop to calling the Chancellor to ask about the status on the grant announcement.

  She needed a change of scenery. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. I’m going to the café.”

  Her heels clacked on the linoleum floor flecked with greys and blues as she strode past the breast center, the gift shop, through the lobby where a mini forest of twenty-foot bamboo trees rose up from a cement planter toward a skylight. The hospital spared no expense on the lavish lobby, complete with a water fountain cascading from ceiling to floor over a wall of green granite. There was also a player grand piano perpetually on auto-play. Harper had always thought the empty bench created a ghost-like vibe—a little too eerie for a hospital setting, in her opinion.

  Harper stopped abruptly when she saw Samson standing at the beginning of the corridor that led to the auditorium. He was shaking Gordoni’s hand. Both men were smiling triumphantly.

  No. It couldn’t be.

  She must be getting delirious. Just because Gordoni had a smug look on his face did not mean he’d been awarded the grant.

  Harper hadn’t even realized she’d stopped cold until Samson turned his head and caught her gaze. He raised a hand in a wave. In order to get to the café, she’d need to pass them. An encounter was inevitable.

  Better to find out sooner rather than later. She lifted her chin and strode toward the men.

  Gordoni at least had the decency to tone down his satisfied grin when he noticed her approach. “Harper.”

  “Joseph,” she said flatly. She would not ask if he’d heard about the grant. She would not show insecurity.

  When she said nothing more, Gordoni tilted his head and performed a micro-roll of his shoulders. A nervous tick if she ever saw one.

  Samson broke the silence with a tentative quaver in his voice and apology in his eyes. “Joseph was just describing his plans for the grant money for the acute cardiac wing.”

  The words were like a hand squeezing the blood out of her heart. How could the Chancellor not let her know? She’d thought the man was full of himself but this was downright vicious.

  She plastered on a gracious smile. In the most unperturbed voice she could conjure, she said, “Yes, that’s right. Congratulations are in order, I hear. Great work, Joe.” She might feel the man didn’t deser
ve the funds, but she wasn’t about to be unprofessional. Never give them something to criticize was her policy. Especially as a female administrator, she had to be even more vigilant about her reputation.

  “Thank you.” Gordoni stroked his chin in a poor attempt at a relaxed demeanor. “I believe you had skin in the game, didn’t you?” As though he’d just remembered. “Sorry you missed out.”

  Harper shrugged. “Two million people with drug resistant infections per year and rising. Too bad Lincolnfield won’t be at the forefront of this public health issue.” No, they’ll be ass backwards if they keep up this strategy. “Excuse me. I’m going to grab myself a coffee.”

  “Come by my office, Harper, and we’ll talk,” Samson’s thin voice called behind her. “It would be a shame to let your center idea go.”

  It was a shame the Chancellor wouldn’t take a strategic risk for a promising therapy. It was a shame she’d spent eight months on this proposal, two visits to the San Diego center, untold hours networking with the infectious disease community in Chicago and beyond. She was so angry she nearly broke off a heel stomping back to her office.

  She’d done everything right. Everything.

  Except for one thing.

  That last chance she’d had to schmooze with the Chancellor and put in a good word for her proposal, she’d turned her car around and headed back toward Jakub’s bed. Why hadn’t she just gone that last mile for her center? Had the Chancellor truly believed she lacked drive and focus to the extent she’d needed to prove herself with personal appeals? Women always had to work twice as hard to show their worth. She shouldn’t have let her responsibilities slip.

  Harper strode past Sherise, giving her assistant a quick nod, then collapsed into her desk chair.

  “Dr. Dvorak called,” Sherise appeared in the doorway. “I told him you’d be back in ten.”

  Not more than a minute after Harper’s rear met the springy fabric of her ergonomic desk chair, the phone rang.

  She stared at the phone while she took a sip of her cappuccino. Silky and warm, the coffee was little comfort. On the second ring, she answered the phone.

  “Harper, I’m sorry to hear your grant fell through.” Miles’s tone of genuine concern loosened the knot in her stomach for the first time since seeing Gordoni.