True Love's Fire: A Red Hot Valentine Story (Hell Yeah!)

by Hunter, Sable

  He stopped to take a sip of coffee. Lia waited patiently. She’d been hanging on his every word.

  “The daughter begged me and I agreed to operate. But when I performed the surgery, I found this huge tumor which was knit into a great portion of Jerry’s brain. The more I tried to remove, the more it bled. I almost lost him twice, but I wouldn’t, couldn’t quit. When I finally finished, I was surprised he was still alive, and when he came to, he was normal. No Alzheimer’s. In fact, he was able to return to his work running a mechanic’s shop. It was a miracle, of a sort.”

  “I’m so proud of you.” Lia beamed at him. “It must be wonderful to have a talent like yours. My grandmother had a massive stroke. They told my mother it was an inoperable brain tumor.”

  Scott frowned. “What did they do for her?”

  “I was young, I don’t really know. We cared for her at home, she was bedridden, paralyzed and couldn’t speak.”

  “Tragic,” Scott said. “Now, we can do so much more if we get to the patient in time. How long did she live?”

  “She died when I was thirteen.”

  “No change at any time?” he asked.

  “Once she spoke, just once.” Lia told him about dropping the iron. “We were always amazed at that. But it never happened again.”

  Scott smiled sadly. “She was watching you. When she thought you were about to be hurt, the adrenaline rush affected the position of the tumor for a few seconds. Very interesting. I wish we could turn back the clock. I might have been able to help her.”

  “She was a kind woman, if she told me once, she told me a hundred times. Be a good person, Lia. That’s all you have.” The expression he was wearing on his face, made Lia’s heart melt. “Tell me more.”

  “The story of Jerry had a happy ending. Not all of my attempts at helping someone have been successful.” With a heavy heart he began telling her about Sammy. “His parents brought him to me when he was about eight months old. His head was enlarged, and I knew just by looking that he had a growth which needed to be removed or he would die. After examining him, I knew I had to try.”

  She clasped her hands together, realizing this was hard for him to tell. “Sometimes trying is all we can do.”

  “I operated, but it didn’t go well. I made a mistake.” He rubbed his hands on his knees, absently. “It happens sometimes, but I nicked a nerve and even though I got most of the tumor, I suspected Sammy would be paralyzed.” He let out a heavy breath, crossing his arms over his chest. “And I was right. We did everything we could, but it was evident the tumor would regrow and he would die. The parents were told the sad news and I prepared them for the fact Sammy would never leave the hospital. To my surprise, they accepted it, but I was wrong again. Sammy didn’t die, not right away. He lived, unable to move very much, but he lived long enough to become aware of people. And his parents only came once or twice. Over almost two years, they only came once or twice.” His voice broke. “So, I would go every day. I sat with him. I held him. When I would walk in that room, his eyes would brighten and he would smile that little lop-sided smile and try to lift his arms. Sammy was always glad to see me.”

  Lia was crying. “What happened?”

  “We did the best we could. We had a mobile for him. I bought him a little television. The nurses read to him and I came to see Sammy as often as I could. And one day, I held him as he died.”

  “Oh, Scott.” She got up and went to him, holding her arms up to hug him, kissing his face. “You are the sweetest, most perfect man.”

  He hugged her back. “No, it was my fault,” he whispered in agony.

  “Everyone makes mistakes and you never abandoned him.”

  “I left pediatric practice and I never went back again.”

  Reverently, she kissed his lips—softly, sweetly, offering comfort and total acceptance.

  Scott welcomed her, holding her tightly for long moments. Finally, he said. “Now, tell me about you. What do you do, Miss Houston?”

  Lia hesitated, but after listening to his confession, there was no way she could hold back. Sitting back down, she folded her hands in her lap, took a deep breath and confessed. “I write.”

  “You do?” The water was boiling. “You want a cup?”

  She said, “Yes.” Telling him how she drank it.

  He fixed it and brought hers around, settling on the couch beside her. “What do you write? Poetry? Romance novels?” He didn’t think he’d ever met a writer before.

  “No, songs. I write the music and lyrics for songs.”

  This was even more of a surprise. “I love music, I’m impressed. Have you sold any?”

  “Yea, a few.” She was a bit embarrassed. This information wasn’t something she shared with many people. Not many folks in her own county were aware she composed music. They just knew she lived in her mother’s house. Most assumed she lived off an inheritance of some kind.

  “Anything I’ve heard of?” He studied her face in the light coming through the window. She was growing more beautiful to him by the minute.

  “Yea, I think so.” Lia could see the surprise go over his body as he turned slightly toward her.

  “What?” The suspense was killing him.

  She smiled. “You were singing one of my songs in the bathroom earlier. I write Cabe Allen’s ballads and some songs for others too, like Sela Duncan and the band Wildfire.”

  If she’d told him she was the pope, he wouldn’t have been more surprised. “Hot damn! My God, I love your music.” He let the reality sink in. “You’re amazing. The amount of emotion and truth you pack into just a few verses is phenomenal.” He touched her face with the tips of his fingers. “I want to get to know you, Lia Houston. I want to get to know your heart and soul.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  I don’t even know how to be

  The woman you need

  We’re gonna clash

  That much I can guarantee

  “Rummy!” Lia proudly laid out her spread of four aces. “I beat you again.” She gave a low, satisfied little giggle which had Scott’s dick doing push-ups. She had no idea what she was doing to him. Scott Walker was completely and utterly infatuated with her and all they’d done was share one sweet kiss.

  “I think you’re cheating.” He raised one eyebrow and gave her a deadpan look. “And when I figure out how, I’m going to spank your delectable bottom.”

  Lia’s mouth gaped open. He thought she had a delectable bottom? “I don’t cheat.”

  “You’ve beaten me five times in a row, there can be no other explanation.”

  “Maybe I’m just a better card player.” She gave him a stern stare, but her eyes were twinkling. “Could I get back in your good graces by making us some lunch?”

  “I don’t think you should be standing on your ankle.”

  Lia ignored him. She was getting tired of just sitting. “I’ll stand on one foot.”

  Before he knew it, she half-walked, half-hopped around the bar to the kitchen. “I brought hamburger, we’ll have cheeseburgers.” As she began cooking, both Scott and Elvis came closer, one at her feet and the other sitting in a stool across from where she worked.

  “Smells good.”

  “Would you tell me about where you live?” she asked, having a hard time concentrating on her cooking while he sat across from her all hunky and cuddly. Her imagination was going wild. To have someone like him to share her mornings with and do things for, would be out of this world. At least during this brief time together, she could pretend.

  “I have a house on the west side of Austin. Let me show you, I think I have some pictures on my phone.” He went after it. While he was gone, she looked at her reflection in the side of a shiny pot, desperately trying to determine if she looked as frumpy as she felt.

  Stop it. She
fussed at herself. This is a forced situation. This wasn’t real. In normal circumstances, Scott Walker wouldn’t give her the time of day. And that fact was confirmed in her mind when she looked at his photographs.

  “This is my place.” He showed her a gorgeous home.

  Lia’s eyes grew big. “My God, that’s a mansion.” She wasn’t poor. What she made as a songwriter was being wisely invested, but living in a place like Scott did was out of the realm of her experience. Her whole house would fit into his foyer.

  “True, it is a little big. I have a few rooms where I hibernate. The rest of it is really just for show.” It pained Scott to admit that. If he were truly honest about it, he’d bought the place as a sub-conscious response to Renee’s expectations of what his life should be like. His ex would never see it, but in some ways, he was still trying to prove himself to her. “And this is my office.” He thumbed another picture over.

  She leaned near him while the hamburgers fried. Some photos he went by quickly and Lia couldn’t help but notice how many of them contained beautiful women—elegant, fashionable women. All of the things Lia was not. “You seem to have a wonderful life.”

  “I do,” he spoke slowly. “I love my work, it’s a calling really.”

  “From what you told me earlier, I agree. I admire you greatly.”

  Her compliment made him a tad uncomfortable, which was odd. “Sometimes I feel like I’m just going through the motions.” With the women. With his friends.

  “I can’t imagine living where you do.” She was trying to be honest. “I don’t think I could breathe there. I’m so used to all of this. Open spaces, fresh air, and a view that goes on forever.” She pointed out at the window behind them. The sun was shining, and even though the temperature was well below freezing, the fog had lifted and the vista was magnificent. Scott turned and looked with her. Just across the short drive, there was a drop off and one series of rolling, wooded hills flowed into another. In the distance he could see dozens of mountain peaks, all snow covered—it looked like a Norman Rockwell painting.

  “I can see why you would feel that way.” When the patties were done, he helped her lay out the cheese, buns, lettuce and tomato. “Let’s make our burger and I’ll tell you about my other world. Mustard or mayo?”

  “Both.” Now, she was intrigued. “What do you mean?” He sat across from her, and swear to God, his shoulders were wider than the window behind him. She wouldn’t tell him this, but she’d rather look at him any day than the view.

  “Jordan, my brother, and I grew up on a beautiful ranch called WestStar. It sits about an hour and a half west of Austin. The house isn’t grand like the one I live in now, but there’s nothing wrong with it. Mother designed it to be comfortable, to blend in with the surroundings. So it’s made of natural rock and oak logs. There are natural springs nearby and we have our own mountain, it’s not nearly as big as yours.” He gestured toward the outside. “But I spent many happy days climbing and exploring it. We have white tail deer, coyotes, and wild cats.”

  “It does sound like some place I’d enjoy.” Lia could tell he had a great love for the place. “Does your brother live there?”

  “No, he insists the ranch belongs to me. I’m the eldest.” He ate a few bites. “There’s one place I would love to show you. About a quarter mile from the house, there’s a spring-fed swimming hole which seems to emerge from the side of the mountain and a flat face of rock makes an incredible backdrop for the pool. When I was younger, I used to carve my name there in a heart, along with the name of whatever girlfriend I was claiming at the time.”

  Lia laughed. “I can see a problem forming. How many hearts did you end up with?”

  “Well, they were small and I’d only lead the current girl to the spot where her name was located, although I did get caught a few times.” He smiled, remembering the day Lucy Harbison found the heart with Connie Smith’s name on it. “Once I got Dad’s sledge hammer and tried to remove one of them when I thought I was really in love.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Oh, fourteen or fifteen at the most.”

  “I bet you were cute out there carving those romantic tributes.” She could just picture him, tongue to one side, with his hammer and chisel. “Do you have any photos of you at that age?”

  “No.” His expression changed. “I lost most of our family history in the fire.”

  “Fire?”

  He shook his head and sipped some coffee. “We lost our folks in a fire at Christmas, my Senior year in Med-School.”

  “I’m so sorry.” She covered her hand with his.

  “It was my fault.” He began, then dry-scrubbed his face. “I mean, I should have been there. If I had gone home for Christmas, I might have noticed the gas leak, I might have smelled it.”

  “And you might have died,” Lia said simply. “We have to trust there is someone bigger than we are, taking care of those things.”

  “I don’t believe that,” Scott stated flatly. “Things don’t happen for a reason. Shit happens. You can’t say the way Sammy suffered alone was in any way good.”

  Lia’s heart hurt for him. He was so different than she first assumed him to be. Scott was deep and sensitive. He wasn’t some shallow play-boy. “Maybe not, Scott, but knowing and loving Sammy changed you. You are a better doctor and a more compassionate person because of him. Everything that happens in our lives molds us into the person we’re meant to be, or should be.”

  “I don’t know, Lia.” He gave her a weak smile. “I’ve grown pretty calloused over the years.”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “Me too,” she admitted, “in a way.” Lining up her fork and knife, she wondered how much to tell him. Lia so rarely shared with people, it was hard. “I’ve led a solitary life. I live in the same cabin my mother and grandmother lived in. I’ve never really had a male influence in my life. My father left my mother before he could find out she was pregnant with me and whoever my mother’s father was, hurt my grandmother so much, she forbade his name ever to be spoken out loud.”

  He put his plate down and took hers, setting them on the coffee table. “Come here.” Scott held out his arms. “I need you.”

  Lia shook. She wanted to do this so much. But she was afraid to try. They’d only be disappointed. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “Why, baby?” He rubbed her back. “Don’t you want to?”

  She nodded her head. “I’m not very good at this.”

  There was that chuckle again. “You don’t have to be. Your pleasure is my responsibility.” He pushed her back on the couch, following her, covering her body with his. “You know what today is?”

  “New Year’s Eve.”

  “That’s right, so let’s celebrate—all night long.”

  “It isn’t dark.” She looked into his handsome face, his eyes so blue, his hair so black. She traced the line of his lips, so sensual, imagining the pleasure he could give her.

  “It will be by the time I get my fill of you, let’s bring the New Year in right.” His breathing was hard and deep. She could see the passion glittering in his eyes.

  Her hands lay by her head. She wasn’t trying to push him off. “Okay, just as long as you don’t expect fireworks. I don’t have much to offer.”

  “Oh, God, baby.” He pushed a silky strand of hair off her forehead. “I beg to differ.” He lowered his head and captured her lips. Like lighting a fuse, the need exploded between them.

  Lia felt it. A desperate, clawing hunger. She moved her legs and hips, accommodating him between them. Her whole body seemed to be on fire. “Tell me what to do.”

  Scott rubbed one hand down her arm as he growled against her lips. “Enjoy.” His tongue caressed inside her mouth, stroking as he kissed her, craved her. An incredible pulsing arousal flowed between them like ropes of fire, meldin
g their bodies together.

  Pulling back, he stared at her face as she held his gaze. Her swollen lips parted, her breath coming in sexy little pants. It was all he could do to take it slow. She deserved care and tenderness. When all he really wanted to do was tear her clothes from her body and ravish her till she begged for more.

  Moving to his side, he let his eyes rake over her body. His white shirt had been pushed up to her thighs, almost high enough so her panties would show. His blood pressure spiked so high he couldn’t breathe. “Look at you,” he whispered. “You are so pretty.” He ran a hand over the silky smoothness of her thighs. “So sweet. So soft.” As he touched her, she trembled. “Lia, you’re perfect.”

  “Not even close.”

  Her husky little voice almost made him weak with lust. As he kissed her, he ran his hand under the shirt, petting and caressing the satin skin of her waist, teasing the top of her panties. “I need you naked.” Scott wanted it so much, he couldn’t exist another moment without seeing her and kissing the beauty he uncovered. “Put your hands over your head.”

  “Why?” She followed his instructions, even as she questioned why.

  “I want you at my mercy.”

  When she quivered, he smiled. “I just want to touch you.”

  “What about me? Don’t I get to touch?”

  “All in good time.” She arched her back as he began to undo the buttons. His hand shook, his fingers seeming too big for the task. “God, I want you.” Lust was flowing through his veins like lava. At this moment in time, no other woman existed. He could remember no other face but hers. As he parted the material, he held his breath. First, it was cleavage, the inner swell of her breasts. All he could think was how they would taste, what their shape would be, what the color of her nipples would be.