Burning Love

by Debra Cowan

  * * *

  By the time Terra showered off the smell of smoke and got to bed, it was nearly three in the morning. She slept until after noon with Jack waking her every two hours to ask what day it was and if she remembered what happened. She did, which the doctor had said was a good sign that her concussion was mild.

  The worst part was the dull headache settled at the base of her skull. She hadn't popped this much acetaminophen since her days as a frontline firefighter.

  Jack took great care of her. When she tired of her bed, he fixed a cozy place on the sofa and found an old John Wayne movie on the television. He settled in the leather recliner next to the sofa as they watched together.

  By the time she finished the light supper he'd prepared, Terra felt more steady on her feet than she had all day. While he cleaned up the dishes, she called Presley Regional to check on the people she'd rescued last night. The neighbor, Mr. Isaacs, had been released, but the elderly woman had been admitted due to breathing problems.

  Just as Jack walked back into the living room, she hung up. "The nurse said Mrs. Allison is improving quickly and will probably be released tomorrow. It's lucky I was so close last night."

  "I'm glad she's better." He stood behind the recliner, flipping television channels with the remote.

  "That kid I told you about, Travis? He was great, just kept fighting that fire with all he had."

  "Do you need more acetaminophen?"

  "No, thanks." She smiled, curled her legs under her as she looked up at Jack. Why wouldn't he look at her? "It's been a while since I've had that adrenaline rush. You know, after you've rescued someone. At first, you operate on instinct and training. Then things calm down and you're just…high. Exhilarated. Know what I mean?"

  "Did you get enough to eat? I can fix something else."

  "No, it was plenty." In the hours since the accident, she'd been aware of the concern that had darkened his eyes, but now his features were tight. Closed off.

  "How's your head?"

  "I think the pounding is gone." His behavior needled at her, though she didn't know exactly why. He was being perfectly sweet. Perfectly accommodating. Perfectly…distant. As if she hadn't touched every inch of his body. Just the way he had her.

  "I can't remember the last time I made a fire rescue," she mused. "It had to be before I was promoted to fire investigator. A lot of our calls aren't too serious."

  "Don't need too many serious ones," he said tightly.

  She took in the penetrating stare, the worry lines carved between his eyes. "Jack, what's going on? Has something happened on our investigation?"

  "Other than you getting whacked on the head by a burning rafter? No."

  "So, it's the accident?" He was afraid for her. That was all.

  "We can talk about this later." He turned toward the kitchen. "Let me get you something to drink."

  "I don't want anything. Please tell me what's going on."

  "Not now, Terra. You have a concussion, for crying out loud."

  "You've been great since we got home, but you're keeping me at arm's length. I feel as if you're punishing me for something."

  He came to her, his eyes full of turmoil. "I'm not trying to hurt you."

  "I know that." She took his hand, squashed the sting she felt when he stiffened. "Just talk to me."

  "No. This is the worst possible time."

  "I get the feeling there isn't going to be a good time."

  "You should rest, concentrate on getting back to a hundred percent."

  She let go of his hand and stood. Anger and fear combusted inside her. "What am I supposed to think here? I don't understand why you're putting this distance between us. Things have been going so well."

  "I hate seeing that bandage on your head."

  "I admit it's not my best look—"

  "You could have been killed last night. Don't make light of it."

  Her throat tightened. "You were afraid for me."

  "Hell, yes. And you should be afraid, too."

  "I was," she said softly. "But I got through it. Just like you would've done."

  "We're not talking about me. At least I know when I might be called into a dangerous situation."

  "You don't always know." She frowned. "Do you have a problem with my job? You know what I do. You've always known."

  "You're supposed to be an investigator."

  "An investigator who has to fight fires on occasion." Irritation burned beneath her hurt and apprehension. "And I'm fine. I'm arguing with you, aren't I?"

  "Don't brush it off." He took her shoulders, his gaze lasering into hers. "You're fine now, but what about next time?"

  "Jack, I hardly ever take rescue calls."

  "But you will if you have to, and you should."

  Maybe she did have a serious concussion because she was lost. "I don't understand what you're saying. If you know I might have to go on rescue calls, then what's the problem?"

  "I'm not angry that you help people." His hold gentled and he lifted one knuckle to stroke her cheek. "Never. But I can't live knowing that some night you might go into a fire and not make it out."

  "The same thing could happen when you get a call."

  He stared at her for a long moment, creating a huge bubble of doubt and dread inside her. "I thought I could do this, but I was wrong."

  The haunted words sent a warning to her brain. "Do what? Be involved with me?"

  "Yes." His voice cracked, but he held her gaze.

  "Why not?" Her voice trembled with emotion. This was just like Keith all over again. Jack couldn't accept her job, couldn't accept her.

  "I'm sorry. I can't handle it. It's not you. It's me. I want you, so much that I allowed myself to believe you weren't a firefighter anymore. But you are."

  She tried to staunch the swell of panic in her chest. "We can talk about this. We can get through this."

  "I can't explain it, Terra. Hell, I'm not saying it even makes sense. I just know I can't deal with it. I don't have it in me to lose someone else the way I did my wife."

  "Is it just me or did we have something special going on here?"

  He didn't answer.

  "You're the one who said you wanted more than one night. I thought you meant a lot more."

  "I'm sorry."

  "So, because that horrible man killed your wife—"

  "On the job. She died on the job."

  She took a deep breath, holding on to her restraint by a thread. "Because the same thing could happen to me, you want to forget what we've been building?"

  "Your job is even higher risk than hers was. Chances are greater it could happen to you."

  "It could happen to you, too, Jack. I didn't want to let you in either. If I went from my past experience, I would never have believed that what we had was real. It's very real and I took a chance in order to find that out. If I can do it, why can't you?"

  "I just can't, Terra. I can't lose someone so close to me again. My whole life was blown apart and I thought I'd never rebuild it."

  "You think you're cutting your losses now?" Her heart, which had begun to open again, shriveled shut. "I don't. It hurts just as badly and this time you're the one causing it."

  "You can't hate me any more than I hate myself."

  "I thought I'd finally found someone who understood my job, who accepted it. Someone I could trust when they said they wanted our relationship as much as I did. I've been through pain, too, Jack. Loss and loneliness, but I decided to take a risk. Like I thought you had. I can't change your mind, but I think you're making a big mistake."

  "I don't think so."

  "Do you think I'm not scared?" Frustrated tears stung her eyes. "Do you think I don't wonder what could happen to you or me? It's not just the job, Jack. It's life. We have something special. I don't know how often that happens, but I don't think you get to pick and choose when it will. You have to grab it when the chance finds you."

  "I'm sure you're right, but it doesn't change the fact that I
can't give what you can to this relationship. I can't give what you deserve. That's not fair to you, Terra."

  I want you! Anger and rejection slashed at her, but she wouldn't beg. Defeated, she didn't trust herself to speak for a few seconds. "So what about the case?"

  "It's my case." His eyes narrowed. "I'm not turning it over to someone else."

  "Neither am I. I can handle working together if you can." She couldn't, but hell would freeze over before she told him that.

  "I can handle it," he said quietly.

  "Fine. I'll contact Reynolds about the interview. I'll let you know how that goes."

  "Where will you tell him you want to meet?"

  "My office. Just in case he's our—I mean, the arsonist, Darla will be there with me. He won't try anything with a witness."

  "That's good. Smart."

  Smart wasn't what she felt right now. She felt foolish and hurt and even a little used, though neither she nor Jack had made any promises. She gestured wildly toward the door. "You don't have to stay. Only three more hours left anyway."

  "I'm staying. I said I would."

  "No. I'll call Robin or Meredith to come over."

  "Terra—"

  "Just go. I'll be fine."

  "You're not supposed to be alone."

  She stared at him until he swore and looked down. Biting her bottom lip, struggling to keep the tears out of her eyes, she walked to the phone and called Meredith. Her friend said she'd be there in less than half an hour.

  Terra put down the phone and gave in to the anger roiling through her. "I wish you'd told me you felt this way before I…slept with you."

  She'd nearly said fell in love with you. The thought caused her jaw to lock. She was not in love with him.

  "I'm staying until she gets here."

  "Do whatever you want." Her heart clenching with pain, she turned and walked to her bedroom.

  Chapter 13

  Two days later, Terra's headache had returned and it had nothing to do with the concussion. It was all thanks to Jack Spencer. Her evening interview with Dane Reynolds, out in front of the fire investigator's office, only increased the dull throbbing behind her eyes.

  Reynolds had predictably asked her out before the cameras rolled, then shot questions at her like a string of fire-crackers. At the end of the session, she gave out the phone numbers for hers and Jack's offices, asking anyone with information to call.

  Afterwards, she went into her office, wrapped up all her paperwork on the fire at Jack's house and sent him an e-mail about the interview. She didn't have it in her to talk to him yet. That would come soon enough. As soon as they got a lead from this interview, she'd be talking to him plenty.

  It was late when she got home. The headache, not to mention the hurt she felt at Jack's rejection, had drained her. After eating a bowl of cereal, she headed to bed.

  The last conversation she'd had with Jack played over and over in her mind. What made her as mad as anything was that she couldn't even argue with his reasons for walking away. He simply wasn't ready for another relationship and there was nothing she could do to make him ready.

  That frustrated helplessness gouged as deeply as the pain. Whatever had been between them was finished. She climbed into bed and squeezed her eyes shut. She'd done all the crying she was going to do. Forcing herself to focus on her breathing, she put her mind and body into a state of relaxation that she hoped Jack Spencer couldn't invade. And she prayed as hard as she could that sleep would come.

  Her pager beeped, jerking her awake. She fumbled for it, noting dispatch's number on the back-lit readout. Pale yellow light from the streetlamp wedged through her blinds. The time on the clock glowed five-twelve.

  She dressed quickly, throwing on clothes and tennis shoes, racing out the door to her truck. A call to dispatch got her a familiar sounding address on the south edge of Presley and the news that there was one fatality.

  Clicking off her radio, her mind zeroed in on the address. It was in the same strip mall as the site of the first serial arson, a janitorial supply store. Before she could do more than wonder about that, her cell phone rang.

  "Hello."

  "Terra?"

  "Jack?" Her pulse cartwheeled and she reminded herself he couldn't be calling for personal reasons. Something must have happened on the case.

  "I'm at a fire scene."

  "I'm on my way to one now. On the south side—"

  "Near the janitorial supply store?"

  "Yes."

  "That's where I am."

  She went still inside, automatically guiding her car around a corner. Why was Jack the officer assigned to her fire scene? "Dispatch told me we have one fatality. Who is it?"

  "Dane Reynolds."

  Terra started, completely taken aback. "Dane? But I just saw him."

  "I know," Jack said quietly. "I thought you'd want to be prepared."

  "I appreciate it. I'm on my way."

  Dane Reynolds? As her initial disbelief faded, Terra's mind raced. If he was their arsonist, had he torched himself? If he wasn't the arsonist, was his death related to their case? She wouldn't get answers until she arrived at the scene, but the questions still circled through her mind.

  Almost twenty minutes after getting the page, she reached the strip mall. In front of her, sirens screamed as an ambulance turned into a large parking lot which serviced the mall.

  Along with the supply store, an alterations shop, a shoe store and a family-owned grocery comprised the mall's businesses. Terra followed the ambulance into the lot. One patrol car guarded the entrance, its red and blue lights flashing through the dusky night. After she showed her badge, the officer waved her in. She parked a couple of hundred feet away from the janitorial supply store.

  Station Four had the blaze out. Smoke floated overhead. A van, its white paint charred and peeling, squatted in the hazy yellow floodlight like a crippled bug. On this side of the vehicle, only one of the four call letters remained. The channel number and other identifying marks had been scorched away.

  She bailed out of her truck, slinging her camera around her neck as she wove her way around another police car and the line of firefighters dragging back the main line which was attached to a hydrant on the curb. The burn pattern was most intense on the front doors of the van, not from under the hood or from the back near the gas tank.

  Despite the hum of activity around her, her gaze went straight to Jack. He stood three to four car lengths away, directing a patrol officer who stretched crime scene tape around a square area about one hundred feet from the van.

  "Roll that back!"

  Terra glanced toward the familiar voice and saw Don LeBass at the head of the nozzle, dripping wet and moving the main hose to the truck. If he'd shown up with the crew, could he have started this fire? Neither she nor Jack had found anything to clear LeBass. Or Cecily, either.

  She saw Captain Maguire speaking to two firefighters and she walked over. He turned to her. "I told them to leave the body as is for now. The guy never had a chance. This was a fast burn, Terra."

  She nodded.

  "You should be able to get to the van in a few minutes. Want my guys to set up your lights?"

  "Yes, please. They're in the back of my truck. Who's taping the scene tonight?"

  "Williams."

  "I'll talk to him in a few minutes."

  He gestured toward the burned vehicle. "The vic's a reporter. That one who's always bugging you."

  "I heard." Thanks to Jack, she'd had time to wrap her mind around this. "Who was first on the scene?"

  "Either Detective Spencer or the patrolman." Maguire pushed off his helmet and swiped at the black water running down his face. "I'm not sure."

  "Thanks, Captain."

  She might as well talk to Jack and get it over with. He still stood to one side of the cordoned-off area. As she passed a clump of firefighters, she heard one of them say, "That guy in there is toast. Doesn't look like he even tried to get out."

  She g
lanced at the soaked, charred van. Why had Reynolds been here?

  The sweep of headlights across the parking lot caught her attention. An SUV from Channel Five and a van from Channel Nine pulled up and stopped behind Station Two's rescue truck. It hadn't taken long for word to get out.

  Shoulders tense, she sloshed through the water glistening on the pavement. This was the first time she'd seen or talked to Jack since that night at her house.

  He watched her, his steady gaze causing a flutter in her belly. She resisted the impulse to run her gaze down his body, to replay the memory of their nights together. Forgetting all that lean power, the incredible way he'd made her feel would be difficult. The closer she got, the more her heart ached. She'd missed him. "What do you make of this?"

  His blue gaze stayed fixed on her, setting off a nervous skitter in her pulse. She wanted to ask how he was. At the same time, she wanted to give in to the hurt still sawing at her and freeze him out. But this was all about work. He wanted only a partner; that's what he would get.

  "Hello," he said quietly, his gaze flat and remote.

  "Hello." The word felt thick in her throat and sweat clammed her palms inside her gloves. "Looks bad," she said. A brilliant observation. "Were you first on the scene?"

  "Officer Pope was. He was driving this area and saw the flames. I heard it over the radio and got here a couple of minutes after he did." His gaze searched her eyes. "I wanted to call. I know you met with Reynolds tonight."

  "I appreciate the heads-up. I don't think I would've handled it too well if I'd just shown up and found him like this with no warning."

  The grim set of Jack's mouth, the bloodshot eyes had her wondering if he'd had as much trouble sleeping as she had.

  "Since I seriously doubt Reynolds would torch himself, I think we have to conclude he isn't our arsonist."

  "Unless guilt took over and he did himself in."

  "True," Jack said.

  "But not likely."

  "Reynolds getting torched and being involved in our case is too much of a coincidence. I'd say this means we're down to two suspects," Jack said. "Despite his past, he wasn't our guy."

  "Probably not, but we'll know more once I get the toxicology report. I want to know if there are any drugs in his system. From the fast burn of the fire and no evidence of an attempted escape, I suspect that he was probably unconscious when the blaze started."