A Beautiful Fire (Love at Lincolnfield Book 4)

by Colette Dixon

  Peter Wojcik sat clutching his wife’s hand on the paired arms of their chairs. Marianna, looking forlorn, leaned against the wall. When Harper entered the room, Jakub’s father’s eyes met hers. He stood.

  She wanted to erase the concern etched on his face, the worry that made Irena Wojcik squeeze her hands together, tense for Harper’s explanation. She took a quick breath and exhaled the words, “The therapy was successful. He’s going to be fine.”

  Irena let out a wail of relief as she lunged at Harper, throwing her arms around her in a boa constrictor grip. Before she could catch her breath, the woman smooshed Harper’s cheeks between her palms and muttered something in Polish.

  She took Jakub’s mother’s hands in hers, lowering them from her cheeks to a friendly grip at waist level.

  “We want to thank you. You’ve been such an angel.” Mr. Wojcik seemed to translate his wife’s words who had suddenly gone mute.

  “Nonsense. It was my pleasure to help.” Harper meant it. She was no angel. She simply couldn’t stand by and watch the man she loved perish when there was a treatment—experimental or not—that might help him.

  Marianna, her expression perkier now, pushed off the wall and stepped forward. “Can we see him?”

  Harper nodded, motioning with a palm in the direction of his room. “He’s sleeping, but by all means, you’re welcome to go see him.”

  They shuffled off, leaving Harper alone in the waiting room.

  She was in need of a long, long nap.

  Jakub had turned the corner. Her fatigue did not dampen her relief, her joy, at this fact. Walking with a lighter step than she had in weeks, she made her way to the parking lot.

  In the rental car on the way to the hotel, her phone rang. A number she didn’t recognize. She answered over Bluetooth, “Doctor Peters.”

  “I’m so glad I caught you, Doctor Peters. This is Manuel Gonzales, reporter for the San Diego Sentinel. I’d like to talk to you about the experimental treatment you used on the firefighter’s burns.”

  “How…how did you get my personal cell number?”

  “Dr. Steiner tipped me off about the case. She gave me your cell. Are you willing to share your experience? I think there’s a great story here. For both of us.”

  The words Sarah had spoken about Harper soon being very busy snapped into place in her brain as a smile crept over her lips. “Yes, yes, it’s fine. I was just curious.”

  She hardly remembered how she got to her hotel. She answered question after question of Manuel’s, ignoring two more calls from unknown numbers.

  When she finally flopped down on her bed, she listened to her voicemails. Both from reporters—the San Francisco Chronicle and the Washington Post. She turned off her phone and burrowed her head into the pillow.

  After a two-hour nap, she retrieved her phone to return the reporters’ calls when she noticed another voicemail.

  The Chancellor had something very important he wanted to discuss. Urgently.

  She decided the reporters could wait.

  “Harper,” the Chancellor answered, an excited edge to his voice. “Thank you for calling back so quickly.”

  Taken aback that he answered with her name first—that he had clearly added her contact to his cell phone—she replied, “Of course. What’s the urgent matter you wanted to discuss?”

  “I had a very interesting call with a man from a San Diego newspaper. He mentioned some erroneous information. We need to be on the same page here before all this blows up in the press. Who else have you talked to?”

  “What do you mean?” Harper had a growing suspicion of what he meant.

  “He said that your application to establish a phage therapy center here had been denied. I corrected him.”

  “I see.” He was giving her the funds. Not surprising, but shocking nonetheless. It was what she’d hoped for when she’d left Jakub and gone off to pursue professional glory in Atlanta.

  “You’ve more than proven yourself. And there’s something else I need to say.” His volume dropped to a humble level. Pensive, if she wasn’t mistaken. He paused as though waiting for her permission.

  Interesting. “Go ahead. I’m listening.”

  “I owe you an apology. I underestimated you, and I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sure I can be persuaded to accept your apology if you’re agreeing to what I need for the phage center.”

  “I’m glad you’re seeing things this way. How much do you need?”

  She threw out a number, a good fifty percent above the number she’d totaled in the application.

  He didn’t hesitate. “I think we can make that work.”

  “You think or you know?” She needed absolute certainty. She would not get burned twice.

  “I know. Leave it to me. I’ll get the funds. You just do what you do best.”

  She allowed herself a smile. “I will.”

  Never would she have guessed that to achieve her professional goals, she’d only needed to follow her heart to Jakub. There was something magical about this man, about this bond between them. Call it a mystical synergy of hormones, a resonance of heart rhythms, an alignment of desire and purpose that wove their lives inextricably together. A bond so strong it held the power of creation. She wouldn’t stop chasing her professional dreams. But she’d no longer discredit the far-reaching effects of love in her life.

  “One more thing, Harper.” The Chancellor’s voice brought her head out of the clouds. “I’m not sure quite how to say this. That man, Miles Dvorak. Let’s just say I don’t trust him. I’d advise you to… Well, just be careful around him.”

  She bit her tongue against an acerbic retort that she didn’t need his advice. The Chancellor was making more of an effort than ever to appease her. She didn’t want to minimize his gesture. “I appreciate your concern, Chancellor. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some important calls to make.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Jakub climbed down from the cab of his truck onto the asphalt of the employee parking lot. He rounded the corner of the building toward the station’s front entrance, but he didn’t open the door.

  For a moment, he stood on the sidewalk before the brick and stone structure that had housed his second family for so many years. His feet were as heavy as lead blocks, acting with a mind of their own to protest what he was about to do.

  A spring breeze lifted his hair then a split second later, whistled through the branches of the honey locust tree on the parkway next door. His new home. It wasn’t like he was going very far away. He’d see the ugly mugs of Firestation 41 as often as he wanted. But still, he couldn’t make his feet obey to enter the building.

  Turned out he didn’t have to.

  Caldwell sauntered through the open bay door, wiping his hands on a rag. Quickly, he tossed the rag aside and met Jakub on the sidewalk.

  “It’s Wojcik,” he called out over his shoulder to someone in the shadows of the bay before clamping his hefty arms around Jakub. “Good to see you, man.”

  Stacy appeared, followed by Ritchie.

  After a round of hugs, Caldwell looked him up and down. “You’re not looking as scary as I expected.”

  “Neither are you.” Jakub laughed.

  Six weeks. Six long weeks Jakub had spent convalescing in one hospital or another.

  Days in Chico in a coma, weeks in San Diego for the IV phage treatments then several skin grafting surgeries until he could return home.

  Modern medicine could be a true fucking miracle sometimes. Though sometimes surgeons’ mistakes could kill, this time the good doctors had pulled through and restored his face and arm to a smooth taught flesh that would forever make children cringe, but was worlds above the boiled meat that had been his skin after the fire.

  The thing that kept him going all those long, sometimes excruciating, sometimes tediously boring weeks after Harper had returned to Chicago: the memory of the brush of her lips on his. The image of her dimpled smile as she stood next to his hospital
bed.

  Her whispered promise. You’ll still be handsome to me.

  He had to find out what precisely those words entailed.

  In San Diego, while the intravenous viruses battled with the bacteria in his festering burns, she’d been all business. As soon as the infections were healed, she’d returned to Chicago. He couldn’t expect her to stay indefinitely and nurse him back to health. She had a career to return to after all. He couldn’t blame her for leaving. She’d brought his family to him. She’d saved his fucking life.

  He couldn’t care less about his own career now. He’d be ecstatic if he never saw another fire for the rest of his days. He was done. He only wanted one thing now. A home—a true home filled with a family of his own one day. He hoped she wanted that too. The way she’d looked at him when they were alone in that hospital room in Chico, he was willing to bet everything he had that she at least wanted him.

  This time, he’d show Harper Peters how it felt to be properly loved.

  “We’re going to miss you around here,” Stacy said.

  “Yeah. Well, I’m pretty sure you won’t miss me too much. I’ll be backseat firefighting from my rocking chair on that porch over there.”

  “Lucky us.” Ritchie chuckled.

  Their little crowd dispersed into the building, and Jakub followed Caldwell inside to the office.

  Caldwell handed him a manila folder holding the forms that detailed his retirement benefits. His lungs tightened at the idea of the finality of the words inside. Plenty of time to go over that later. He tucked the file under his arm, handed over his badge, and did a one eighty toward his truck.

  “See you around, Wojcik.” Caldwell’s voice boomed after him.

  “Yep.” He flicked a hand in salute, his throat too tight to say any more.

  Jakub turned from the bathroom mirror to check the time on his phone. Five forty-five in the morning. Time for Harper Peters to run by. He wiped the remaining shaving cream from his face with a steaming hot washcloth, then strode through the front door.

  He leaned his arm against the porch post. The pressure was too much for the still tender flesh there. He shifted to the other side of the archway and leaned on his good arm.

  Since he’d been home, Harper had called a few times to check in on him. She’d apologized over and over for being so busy, breathless and excited about all she was doing for the center she was establishing.

  Sure enough, in under a minute, she appeared at a jog on the sidewalk, ponytail swishing behind her.

  When she saw him at the top of the stairs of the old house, she did a double-take. Arms flailing, she came to a crashing halt.

  “Careful, there.” He stepped down one stair. The sight of her so discombobulated made him laugh. “We wouldn’t want you to break a knee.”

  Breathless and flushed, she put her hands on her hips before striding up the walkway toward him. “Jakub, what are you doing up there?” Her gaze darted to the lawn, empty of the For Sale sign. “The house was sold?”

  “Some fireman type bought it, I hear. A real handsome dude.”

  Her mouth hung open while realization fought its way over her face. “You can’t be serious.”

  Guilt and excitement twisted his guts and pulled his good cheek into a smirk.

  “You bought it?” It was as if she’d been plucked from sleep and set down in another world.

  He let his smile fly wide. “Are you okay with that? You said you weren’t going to buy it. I had some money to invest, so I thought…” He shrugged gingerly.

  She looked like she’d seen a ghost—her face drained of color and her expression froze. Shit. He hadn’t anticipated that. The distress on her face pushed him into motion.

  Quickly, he descended the stairs to stand at her side. “Harper. Talk to me.”

  She covered her cheeks with her palms and stood there, shaking her head. “No. I’m not upset. No. I just… This house…” When she removed her hands, a smile had arisen, healthy color restored to her face.

  He let out a breath of relief then hooked an arm behind her waist and pulled her close. “Have dinner with me tonight?”

  Big, brown, trusting eyes melted his heart. “Or course. If you’re up for it.” There was something else in her eyes. An impossibly warm depth of emotion he’d seen a flicker of once before.

  “I had something in mind for dinner, other than a restaurant. How about a home-cooked meal?” He nodded toward the house.

  Her eyebrows hopped up. “Here? You’re going to cook here?”

  “I know it’s not the best atmosphere yet, but I was hoping you could break it in with me. Share the first meal. Though, by the state of the kitchen, I may go with take-out. Do you like Chinese foo—?”

  She reached to cup his face with a hand. With a desperate intensity, she captured his mouth with hers, unleashing that emotion he’d sensed in her eyes. With equal passion, he kissed her back. He slid his palm behind her nape and pulled her even harder against his mouth. He swept his tongue over hers, needing to be closer. Needing to merge his body with her body.

  His cock woke and had no intention of waiting for him to finish the job at some later time. Down boy. They were on the sidewalk for fuck sakes.

  Slowly, regretfully, he released her.

  She let out a nervous laugh. “I’m probably all sweaty. From the run.”

  Tapping his forehead to hers, he shook his head. He couldn’t imagine a state in which he wouldn’t lust after her, body and soul. “You smell delicious.”

  Her head dipped back, and she closed her eyes. “I better get to work.”

  “I know you weren’t thinking about work just now.”

  She gave him the most radiant, unreserved smile. “I wasn’t. I was thinking about this.” Briefly, she placed her hand over his erection.

  The brazen public display of affection from the very controlled Harper Peters rendered him speechless. Not to mention all his blood had fled his brain in favor of other parts of his body.

  “See you tonight.” Backing up, she gave him a coy look. “And I’ve got some ideas for that house.”

  She began to jog back the way she’d come, throwing him one last sweet smile over her shoulder.

  Damn.

  It was going to be one long day.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Harper walked through the corridor of 3 North along with Magnus, the risk manager, Josh, the hospital president, and Trish, the nurse Harper had recently christened her new program manager. The beds of the hall were empty, the hospice wing having vacated to a dedicated building across the street.

  Would this space do? Who had asked that question, Harper wasn’t quite sure. Yes, this would do just fine, she was vaguely aware she’d answered.

  While Trish scratched notes on a yellow legal pad, they discussed the equipment, the precautions necessary for the phage center. It was a good thing Harper had prepared for this for so long, she could recite her requirements without effort while in the background, her mind drifted to the encounter with Jakub this morning.

  He’d bought her house. His house, she’d had to keep telling herself. Don’t get too excited. It’s not your house. But somehow, she couldn’t help believing the house might be hers one day too. That perhaps he’d even intended this when he’d bought the crumbling structure. Had he seen through her indifference when he’d found that flyer and guessed at the hopes she hoarded close to her heart?

  It seemed, yes, maybe he had.

  The man was incredible.

  Here she was getting her chance to make the difference she’d always dreamed of with her work, and all she could think about was when this day would end. The moment she could be in Jakub’s presence, wrapped up in his arms, so close to his warm, comforting scent. Close enough to hear and feel the beat of his kind and generous heart.

  Seated cross-legged on the area rug he’d put down in front of the fireplace, they ate Chinese food out of the container. After hauling the rug and one box of kitchen supplies from his
condo to the house, Jakub had been too wiped to even think about cooking.

  Harper’s face lit up with excitement as she filled him in on the conversation with the Chancellor when he’d granted her the funds, all the news outlets she’d been interviewed by, and the steps she’d taken that day to put things in place for her center.

  He stuck his chopsticks in the noodles and watched her lovingly. A beautiful shade of red adorned her cheeks. Fire burned behind her eyes. This was Harper Peters at her best. She loved her work. It made her come alive.

  He wouldn’t have it any other way. “I’m really happy for you.”

  A look of humility swept over her features and she tucked her chin, shying from his gaze. “Thank you.” She lifted her eyes to his. “I want you to know I didn’t orchestrate your treatment to try to gain from it.”

  “I don’t care. You were being yourself and I love it.”

  A fierce blush settled over her cheeks. “Well, no, that’s the point, actually. I wasn’t being myself. Not my old self. I was…”

  He set down his food container and scooted closer to her. She was silent as he took her box and chopsticks from her hand, then set them down next to his.

  Gazing intently into her eyes, he reached a hand to caress her face, “You were what?”

  She dipped her head toward his hand. Her lids fluttered closed. After a sweet exhale that tickled his forearm, she met his gaze again. “I only did it for you. Because I knew it would help you. And because…”

  He brushed his lips over hers. The tenderness she returned was excruciating. He wanted to ravish her, but he was in no physical condition for such an adventure. That would have to wait. But this, this tenderness between them he wanted to last. He wanted to savor her this way.

  She must have sensed what he needed. She kissed him lightly, gently running her tongue over his upper lip as though he were still as fragile as when she’d found him in the hospital.

  He moaned, deep in his throat, fire leaping to his cock. “God, Harper, I want you, but I don’t think I’m recovered enough for—”