Cal could hear a commotion in the background. He knew what was coming, and adrenaline spiked in his blood.
“We’ve got a pretty massive blaze going down here. Someone camping in the woods started a forest fire that took off in the dry brush, and—”
“I’m on my way. Where should I meet you?”
Reyn gave directions, and Cal took mental notes. Even after the small-town fire chief had hung up, Cal stood with the phone in his hand, his heart thumping. A fire. This dragonslayer was back in business.
“Cal?”
He faced Libby and blew out a sharp breath. “I’ve been called to a blaze. The volunteer department in Clairmont is battling a forest fire.” He recradled the receiver of her 1970s-era phone and narrowed a worried gaze on Libby. “I have to go out for a while. Will you be okay alone until—”
She grunted and crossed her arms over her chest. “Buddy, I’ve spent most of my life alone. I’ll be fine.”
But most of her life she hadn’t had a pervert stalking her. “Keep the doors locked.”
She gave him an indulgent smile. “Of course.”
“Don’t hesitate to call the cops if you hear or see anything—”
“Cal, go. A forest is burning with your name on it.”
He sucked in a deep breath, his blood singing with energy and anticipation. He took no more than two steps away from the phone before he stopped. Turned. Lifted the receiver again.
On a hunch, he unscrewed the cap on the mouthpiece and tipped the phone up.
“What are you—”
Libby halted midsentence when a tiny device like a watch battery rolled out into his palm.
Their gazes clashed. Terror danced in her eyes.
“A bug?” she rasped.
He bounced the incriminating device in his hand and scowled. “I think we just discovered how your stalker knew you’d be at Stan’s cabin.”
Chapter 13
A police-conducted sweep of her house hadn’t yielded any more bugs. Still, lying in her bed later that night, Libby had the sensation of a different kind of bug crawling on her skin.
Every time she’d picked up her phone, her stalker had been listening. If he’d bugged her home phone, chances were good he’d bugged her office phone, as well. No wonder he’d seemed to be right on her heels wherever she went. Even a step ahead, as he had been when the elevator crashed. The invasion of her privacy galled her, left her nauseated.
She shook off her jitters, reminding herself that the cops had posted someone on the street to watch her house tonight. Police surveillance was Cal’s second choice to staying himself, and he’d been unrelenting in his demand that someone be around to safeguard her.
“I’m blowing off this fire call. Telling them I can’t come. I should stay with you,” Cal had said, even before the police had arrived. But she’d insisted he go.
She could see what the opportunity to be back in action, battling fires, meant to him. He thrived on the excitement, the adrenaline rush, the pride of knowing he was helping save property and protect lives. Yet despite his love of firefighting, he’d been prepared to stay with her. To protect her tonight instead. And she lost another tiny piece of her heart to him. Because he’d been willing to sacrifice something he loved for her. Tonight, for just a moment, she’d been his priority.
And it felt good.
Snuggling under her covers, Libby tried to focus on the warmth Cal stirred deep in her soul with his concern for her, rather than the clammy grip of fear that lingered from that morning. The chilling images of the bloody voodoo doll lurked in her mind. Knowing how close her stalker was getting with his escalating threats shot ice through her veins.
When Jewel jumped up on the bed and curled next to her, Libby stroked the cat’s soft fur. Jewel purred, and the lulling rumble settled around Libby like a comforting blanket.
So what if she was alone? For as long as she could remember she’d had only herself to depend on. She’d faced the unknown of the new boyfriends her mother brought home and survived the isolation and starvation Jimmy had doled out by locking her in the closet. One night without Cal should be cake. She’d survived much worse. By herself.
She had a policeman close by, keeping tabs on her house. She’d be fine.
But…
She missed Cal. More than his protection, she missed his soothing touch, his deep, sexy voice, his reassuring smile. In the short time they’d been married, sharing her home, she’d taken for granted having him in the guest room, a few steps away. Ready. Willing. More than able.
She trembled, her nerves crackling and her pulse jumping with an edgy need. Was it Cal’s protection she wanted tonight or was it the man himself? She shifted restlessly in her wide, lonely bed. Her breasts tingled and ached, and the sheets proved a poor substitute for Cal’s fingers caressing her skin.
She rolled over and blinked at the glowing numbers on her clock. Two thirty-six. How long would Cal be at the fire scene? If he got home before she had to leave for the office, what would she do with that time? Her body answered by pulsing a wave of shimmery sparks through her bloodstream.
She curled her fingers into Jewel’s fur and sighed. Another night with no sleep. She stared into the darkness, waiting for morning and wondering what Cal faced at the fire scene.
Jewel stopped purring abruptly. The cat’s head popped up, eyes alert and blinking. Jewel’s ears perked, and her fur bristled.
A chill skated down Libby’s spine. She strained to listen. Heard nothing but the thud of her heart in her ears. “What is it, Jules?” she whispered. “What’d you hear?”
With a strange, growling meow, Jewel slunk off the bed. Libby bit her cheek as the cat scurried in a crouch out the bedroom door. Libby wanted to believe Jewel had merely heard a dog in the neighbor’s trash. But a sense of foreboding scraped over her skin.
She eased open the nightstand drawer. Hands trembling, she lifted the storage box where she kept her gun, unlocked it and removed the pistol. She set the weapon on the bed and swung her legs to the floor. Gulping shallow breaths, she fumbled in the drawer’s clutter for rounds for the .22.
Apprehension strangled her. She loaded her handgun, ears tuned to the slightest noise. Maybe during one of the drive-bys, a conscientious cop had stopped and cased the house, checking the bushes.
The rumble of Jewel’s growl drifted down the hall again, hiking her blood pressure another click. Clamping the weapon in one shaky hand, her flashlight in the other, Libby tiptoed to the hall. Toward the living room. Creeping. Eyes scanning the darkness. Breath lodged in her lungs.
Jewel yowled and lunged at the window. Startled by the howl, Libby shrieked, as well. She swung the nose of the gun where Jewel had pounced. Aiming her flashlight in the same direction, she encountered a glowing pair of eyes.
And yellow fur. Mr. Johnson’s randy tomcat.
Weak with relief, mad at herself for her panic, Libby lowered the gun and flicked the safety on. She sagged against the wall and glared at her cat, who still thumped her tail with agitation over the trespassing tom. “Damn it, Jewel. You scared me to death! Tell your boyfriends not to visit in the middle of the night.”
“Mrow!” Jewel hopped off the windowsill and trotted into the kitchen.
“No, you can’t have a snack as long as we’re up. I’m mad at you.” Libby stumbled to the sofa and sank onto the cushions. No way would she get to sleep now. Not with her head throbbing, her heart racing, her imagination running wild.
Lifting the TV remote, Libby flipped on the television. Maybe the old-movie channel was playing Twelve Angry Men again. She needed a distraction.
As she clicked past the local news channel, the image of a wildfire caught her attention. Near Clairmont, the bottom of the screen read.
“Firefighters have been battling the blaze since before midnight, hoping to contain the fire before it reaches nearby farms,” a reporter’s voice-over said. “Recent drought conditions have left the forests around Clairmont dry and vulnerab
le to wildfires, and this blaze has roared out of control.”
Libby sat forward, her attention riveted to the hellish images flashing across the screen. Walls of fire consumed towering pines while firemen blasted the flames with powerful hoses. Yet even the water spray seemed ineffective. The men appeared dwarfed by the flames shooting into the night sky. Like David and Goliath.
“Fire departments from as far away as Monroe have been called to assist in fighting the runaway blaze,” the report continued.
Libby hugged a sofa pillow to her chest, squeezing it as tension coiled in her gut. Cal was there, somewhere, battling this giant.
“Tragically, one fireman was killed earlier, and two others were taken to the Clairmont Hospital to be treated for injuries when shifting winds caused a burning tree to fall.”
Libby’s heartbeat slowed, a paralyzing dread spinning through her. One fireman was killed.
“A dozen others have been pulled back from the front line, suffering exhaustion and heat-related symptoms. Those men are expected to return to the fire lines soon and continue their efforts to contain the fire before any more homes are lost.”
The reporter came on the screen, and an older man stood with him. Libby stared at the TV numbly while the older gentleman described the shock and grief of losing his home to the forest fire. She didn’t hear a word of it.
One fireman was dead. Two more hospitalized. The first flutter of panic beat its wings in her chest.
Even when Cal had walked out of her life five years ago, she hadn’t experienced the level of pain that wrenched inside her now. The mere idea that he could be dead…
Libby blinked back bitter tears, swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. She wouldn’t, couldn’t, even consider the notion.
But denial didn’t erase the real possibility that Cal could be injured.
Or worse.
Pain ripped through her. Clawing. Plundering.
Not Cal. Please, God, not Cal!
“Lib?” Cal crouched by the sofa where his wife slept and ran the back of his hand along Libby’s cheek. Her skin felt slightly sticky, looked blotchy, and her nose was red. She’d been crying.
A knot of self-censure twisted inside him. He should never have left her alone last night. He’d seen how rattled she was by the bug they found in the phone, and he knew she’d suffered a lot more with her ordeal at Stan’s cabin than she wanted to admit. Imagining her alone, crying, frightened, turned him inside out.
He slid the remote control from her limp hand and turned off the TV. Morning cartoons faded to black. He set the remote on the coffee table. And froze.
Libby’s pistol sat on the coffee table. Why had she felt the need to get it out? Had something happened last night while he was gone?
He’d have to remind her to lock the gun back up. His parole officer had stipulated that Libby’s gun had to stay locked away, where Cal had no access to it.
He twisted back to face her, searching her with a closer scrutiny to assure himself she was unharmed. Pushing her hair back from her face, he kissed her forehead.
Libby jolted. Sat up with a gasp.
And cracked her head against his with a whomp. He groaned and clapped a hand to the offended part of his skull. The throb of exhaustion and inhaled smoke ricocheted around in his head with the new assault. Libby also nursed her head with a rub.
“Ow,” she mumbled, sleepily turning her gaze on him. Suddenly, her eyes flew open wide, and she launched herself into his arms. “Cal! You’re home! Oh, thank God you’re all right!”
He caught her and barely managed not to topple backward as she wrapped herself around him and clung.
“Yeah, I’m okay. Stinky with sweat and smoke and tired as hell, but okay. What about you? Are you all right?”
“Uh-huh. I am now that I know you’re safe.”
He tried to pry her off, even though having her pressed against him this tightly felt heavenly. “You’re getting soot on you. I need to shower before—”
Libby grabbed his face and sealed her mouth over his. He didn’t question the fervor of her welcome home, only savored it. In an instant, the taste of her lips renewed his energy. Sexual urgency hummed through his veins. Libby moved closer with a sensuous slide of her body along his. The less-than-subtle way she rocked her hips forward and circled him with her legs left no secret where she wanted this steamy greeting to go.
An electric pulse of desire sizzled through his tired muscles, his aching limbs. Her eagerness both stunned and encouraged him. Still, he was painfully aware of the grime and smoke that saturated his pores. As much as he wanted to lay Libby back on the couch and fulfill the promises she made in her hungry kiss, he didn’t want to consummate his marriage in the grungy condition he was in. She deserved better.
Tearing himself away took every fiber of his willpower and strength. His body shuddered and ached with need. “Hold that thought,” he murmured against her lips, “for five minutes while I grab a shower.”
When he pulled away, she protested with a raspy mewl from her throat that rippled through him, straight to his groin.
He kissed the tip of her nose. “Just five minutes. Promise.”
“Four,” she countered. “Any longer, and I’m coming in after you.”
Damn! She was killing him. He wasn’t sure what had changed while he’d been gone tonight. But he wasn’t arguing.
Libby wilted back on the sofa, lack of sleep and the relief of knowing Cal was safe sapping her strength. She touched her lips, which were still tingling from his ardent kiss, then sucked in a deep breath and released it slowly.
Who was she kidding? She’d kissed him. She’d jumped him. She’d been so happy to see him and know he was alive, she’d pounced like Mr. Johnson’s randy tomcat.
Her reaction to Cal had been instinctive, automatic. She hadn’t stopped to think about rules or repercussions.
Down the hall, the shower came on. Five minutes.
Glorious sensations zinged through her. She felt the imprint of his hard body on hers, the hewn muscle, the proof of his desire.
And last night, she could have lost it all. Some poor woman had lost her husband, or son, or brother. An arrow of grief for that woman pierced her heart. She clamped her lips tight to keep them from trembling.
I felt like a vital piece of my soul had been torn out.
Cal’s words echoed in her head, in her heart. She understood that feeling, had survived it once, but didn’t know how she could handle the loss if something happened to Cal now.
The sincerity and pain that had shone in his cerulean eyes had shattered everything she’d believed about their breakup years ago. He’d hurt as much as she had. He’d loved her.
Lying to herself about her true feelings was fruitless. Knowing the danger he’d faced tonight, battling the raging fire outside town, denials shriveled. Brutal honesty hammered home. Despite the risks to her heart, she was falling in love with him. Again.
A few days ago, he’d asked for a second chance. She’d already lost five years with Cal. Suddenly, even five wasted minutes seemed too long. An eternity.
With a surge of energy and anticipation, Libby shoved off the sofa and whipped her nightgown over her head. She discarded her panties in the hall and made a beeline for the shower.
Five years ago, she’d fallen in love with a gentle, compassionate man. A sometimes cocky and stubborn man. A man who made her body sing, her bones melt.
Having seen Cal interact with his daughter, witnessing his dedication to Ally and experiencing his protectiveness toward women, made her admire him more. His obvious concern about her stalker, his comfort and strength, his determination to work through the clues to the stalker’s identity, touched her. How could she have believed him cold and selfish? Irresponsible? Unfeeling?
She’d been so wrong.
When she opened the bathroom door, steam enveloped her. Her pulse stuttered an eager rhythm as she padded across the cold tile floor.
Through the glass
of the shower wall, she enjoyed the distorted view of Cal’s tall, lean frame and wide shoulders. The catch on the shower door snicked as she opened it and stepped into the stall. “I got impatient. Hope you don’t mind.”
Cal twisted at the waist to look over his shoulder, surprise evident in his wide eyes. His gaze drifted down slowly then back up, and her nerve endings vibrated in the wake of his thorough perusal. His pupils dilated. His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed. “Have mercy.”
She quirked a lopsided grin and stepped closer, into the warm water spray. “I’ll take that to mean you don’t mind.”
With a lusty growl, he turned to face her more fully, and she savored her own chance to study him head to toe. Water dripped from his scarred chin. Soapy rivulets trickled down his broad chest and wove through the coarse, dark hair that thickened and narrowed in a path down his abdomen. Her gaze skimmed down powerful, muscled legs to his narrow feet. Heaven help her, he even had handsome feet.
“Come here, you,” he said with a provocative gleam in his eyes, a smug hitch to his lips.
She reached for him, smoothing a hand over his soap-slickened shoulder and around his neck. She nipped at his lips, his cheek, the stubble-roughened line of his jaw. He tasted dark and sensual, dangerous. The remnants of smoke and salty perspiration teased her tongue when she traced his jaw with hungry kisses.
“Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this moment?” he asked, his voice husky and thick with desire. He pulled her closer, sliding his hands to cup her bottom and tugging her hips forward.
A pleasured sigh escaped her throat. She leaned into him, and her breasts nestled against the hot skin of his chest. “About five years?”
He sank his fingers into her hair, combing the damp strands away from her face before cradling her head in his palms. “Longer. It feels like forever.”
He tipped her chin up with his thumbs and licked the drops of water from her lips before covering her mouth with a deep, soul-searing kiss.
She curled her fingers into his back, clung tighter as waves of dizzying pleasure washed over her. She angled her mouth to capture his more fully, and his tongue swept inside to tangle with hers.
To Love, Honor and Defend Page 17
