Hearts on Fire

by Roberts, Bree

  Her reverie was broken as Cort appeared and tapped Danny on the shoulder. Irritation flashed across Danny’s face until he looked up to see that it was Cort cutting in.

  “Cort, welcome back brother! Long time no see.” Danny smiled warmly at his old friend, slapping Cort’s back in a man-hug.

  “You too. You mind if I cut in?” Cort flashed a grin, teeth white in his tanned face.

  Danny shot a look of regret at Jess and returned to the table.

  Jessica stood stiffly as Cort turned to her, a twinkle in his eye that hinted of complicity. She’d fooled nobody with her little stunt, so she’d settle for nonchalance.

  “Oh, hi. You’re back.” Her voice was flat with indifference. She shrugged as he stepped in to put his arms around her waist. She sipped at her beer, and her other hand laid limply on his muscular chest, more to keep him at a distance than anything, trying hard to ignore how hard and warm he felt. Her eyes roamed the bar, looking at anything but him, taking in the tables, the bar decor, the people on bar stools having a care-free night, oblivious to the raging five-alarm fire burning up her insides.

  The scent of him overwhelmed her — rich and warm like an expensive top-shelf brandy, and she closed her eyes, letting it wrap around her like a blanket. Pain washed over her face, clawing at her heart. She turned her head away and rested her cheek against the broad expanse of his chest so he couldn’t see her face as she struggled for composure.

  “Careful, you might inflate my ego with all that enthusiasm,” he smiled wryly, “and yeah, I’m back. How have you been, Jess?”

  Cort was slowly rubbing his thumb along the base of her spine, sending electric tingles sliding into secret places. She shivered, part from pleasure, part from nerves, and part from the gust of cold February wind that had blown through the open door moments before.

  “Same as always.” Tormented. Lonely. Broken-hearted. She bit her bottom lip to contain the groan that nearly escaped her lips.

  Jess finally looked up into his face and drank in his features. A dark stubble of shadow lined his jaw and the slumberous brown of his eyes echoed her desire and what looked like wishful thinking or regret. His skin was a golden bronze, more tanned than she remembered, and she longed to reach out and squeeze those biceps. Inside her, the familiar ache of pure lust stabbed at her midsection. A whirl of emotions swam around in her head, trying hard to undermine her ability to think straight. Damn, he is so good-looking.

  “You look great.” Cort’s hands slid down to her tiny waist and around the small of her back to cradle her closer. Her honey-blond hair, now free from the confinement of braids, tumbled long and loose down her back, tickling the tops of his hands. Her eyes, innocent and soft and pale blue, were ringed by impossibly long lashes. He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of her — Jasmine and something like coconuts or almonds.

  As he breathed in her exotic scent, the pang of a long year without her ripped through his gut, and he knew he’d made the right choice in coming back. She was a drug he couldn’t resist, even across the thousands of miles he’d put between them. And all he had to show for it was a year wasted without her and the possibility that he’d lost her forever.

  Cort stopped dancing, completely mesmerized by her baby-blues, long-lashed and looking at him like he was the only man in the room. Picking up a stray tendril of her hair, he noticed that it was longer than it had been, and a new fringe of wispy bangs teased the tops of her eyebrows, further accenting the huge eyes in her heart-shaped face.

  “The music stopped.” His voice was low and sultry.

  Jess whispered, “What music?”

  He leaned in, his eyes sweeping down to her slightly parted frosty-pink lips, so inviting, so pouty and plump. He hovered whisper-thin close, their breath mingling, and he cupped the back of her neck gingerly, her skin warm and silky to his fingers. Brushing his lips against hers, a spark of excitement ran through them both, and finally his mouth took hers, coaxing her tongue, tasting and teasing. The kiss deepened and he hungrily pulled her body in tight, yearning for more. As his mouth crushed against hers, a jagged need knifed through his stomach, and all he wanted was to get her alone, to show her how much he needed her, had always needed her. Had always loved her.

  And she kissed back.

  Like a first kiss, Jess’s insides tangled up in nerves and hyper-awareness. Her lips tingled where he brushed against them, sending little electric shocks through her, down deep inside, stirring up needs she’d buried there long ago. His kiss deepened, and against her will, Jess found herself responding, her free arm reaching up to run her eager fingers through his soft brown hair, wanting to grab hold and never let go. Her tongue orchestrated its own dance of desire with his as passion built. With heartbeat racing, her breath was coming in short gasps, and this time her moan, long and deep, could not be contained. She was drowning in the desire of the moment, losing herself in this all-consuming kiss.

  Losing the battle.

  With a Herculean effort, she tore her lips free of his as anger replaced the passion. Anger at herself for not standing strong. He was the reason she’d practically grieved away this past year of her life. He was the cause of her countless tears and too many sleepless, frustrated nights. Damned if she was going to just forget that with one little kiss.

  With a deliberate flick of her wrist, she tossed the rest of the beer from her mug into his face and marched back to her table.

  “What the hell?” Temporarily stunned, Cort just stood there, dripping. “Okay, I deserved that.” He followed after her.

  The guys at the table gaped at her when she returned.

  “My turn to buy a pitcher, fellas.”

  Wallet in hand, Jess flounced over to the bartender and leaned her elbows on the spotless bar, hitching a booted foot on the brass foot rail like she had a thousand times before.

  “I need another pitcher please. And I spilled my drink on the dance floor. Accidentally, of course. If you’ll give me a mop, I’ll clean it up.”

  The bartender poured her pitcher and winked. “Terrible accident. I saw the whole thing. Don’t you worry about it, we’ll take care of it.”

  “Thanks. And sorry.”

  Cort arrived next to her at that moment, his face wiped dry from the napkins at their table.

  “Jess.” There was a plea in his eyes, in his voice.

  She shot him a scathing look. “Haven’t you had enough? I have a full pitcher this time.”

  The bartender backed away out of splash range and Cort quirked a daring eyebrow at her.

  “I just want to talk.”

  “Seems to me you were doing more than talking out there.” She jerked her head toward the dance floor. “Besides, we have nothing to talk about.”

  “We have everything to talk about.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like us.”

  The bartender casually moseyed away to fetch the mop.

  “There is no us. Or don’t you remember?” Jess poured herself a mug of the beer. No sense in letting good beer go warm.

  Cort kept a wary eye on her beer mug as he responded. “I remember everything. How you told me you loved it here, that you’d never leave this place, not for love or money.”

  Exasperated, Jess retorted, “If I’d known you were leaving when you asked that question, my answer would have been different. Of course I didn’t ever consider leaving this place. Because you were here.”

  “Christ, Jess.” He took a deep breath, his lips pursed tight. Given a million more years, maybe he’d figure out women. Maybe. He gave her a long serious stare before continuing. “Being a smokejumper was my dream. Was it wrong to leave? Yes. But I can’t go back and change it. All I can do is come back and fix what I broke. To continue where we left off.”

  “We left off with you leaving. So, bye.” Turning her back on him, she carried the pitcher back to her table and the still-quiet crowd of guys, who were now pretending they hadn’t been gawking and placing bets on what would ha
ppen next.

  Jess slid her arms into her coat, pulling her long hair out from under the collar.

  Chief Clay looked up. “You’re not leaving are you Jess? I just got here.”

  “Sorry Chief, it’s too crowded in here.” She sent a withering sidelong glance toward Cort, then turned to the others. “Thanks for the beers, ladies. See you in forty-eight.”

  As she walked to the door, all eyes were on her snug-fitting jeans, or rather what was filling them, and Chief Clay scurried up and placed a hand on her sleeve.

  “Jess, wait. I didn’t get a chance to talk to you at the station earlier. I told you to get out of that building and you disobeyed my order. I don’t know who you think you’re impressing with stunts like that, but rest assured that crap won’t be tolerated. However, you…”

  “I wasn’t pulling a stunt,” she interrupted, “nor was I trying to impress anyone. I really did hear a baby cry. Maybe it’s because I’m a woman and somehow innately more in tune to things like that, but you can give me all the orders you want and if there’s anyone, anyone still inside alive, I’m going in after them. It’s who I am. It’s what I do. It’s how I sleep at night, knowing I did everything I could to save a life. No regrets. You need to fire me for it, go ahead. I’ll totally understand. But don’t ask me to consider a survivability profile when I go in there. Don’t ask me not to save a life.” Her voice was getting steadily louder, and her temper was showing, but more than that, her past. “I’d rather die than know I left someone in there alive, just waiting to die.”

  “Jess,” Chief Clay ran his hand through his hair in frustration, “I was just about to add, before I was interrupted, that you did the right thing. The baby lived. The mother lived too, and she can rest easy knowing she can still hold her baby because of you. In this case, you did the right thing.”

  He reached for the door to open it for her. “Good job. Now relax for a couple of days. You need a ride home?”

  Jess snorted out a laugh. “Hell no. I’m stone-cold sober. Most of my beer went on Cort’s face.”

  Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she stepped out into the cold, dark night.

  Chapter Three

  The next day dawned cold and rainy. Jess hated winter rain. It was relentless and miserable, just like her thoughts. She sipped at her lemon tea as the rivulets ran down her windowpane, and she thought about Cort.

  Closing her eyes, she relived that kiss. If she had any doubts about her feelings for him, those doubts were now laid to rest. Her heart skipped a beat in her chest as she remembered the softness of his lips, the warmth of his hands on her back as he pulled her in close.

  Valentine’s Day was the day after tomorrow. She’d done a fairly decent job of avoiding the kind of places that displayed frilly hearts and teddy bears and candy. Every heart seen was another rip in her own heart. Avoiding all that seemed pointless now.

  Her heart had already ripped wide open again.

  Raw emotions and disjointed thoughts tumbled around in her head. What to do about Cort? How to avoid him? Did she even want to avoid him? Taking him back just wasn’t being true to herself, as if he’d done no wrong, as if he’d never hurt her.

  As if the last year never happened.

  But it did happen. And she still had very strong feelings for him.

  He’d left her, plain and simple. It was the story of her life. Everyone she loved left her. First her parents, then Grandma Kate, and finally Cort.

  But Cort came back. Shouldn’t that count for something?

  Sighing wearily, she donned her coat and grabbed her rain hat.

  Jess walked through the entrance to Cade’s Valley Heritage Hospital and up to the information desk, past elderly and young biding their time in the waiting room. A toddler’s wail competed with the talking head on the T.V. hanging in the corner of the soothingly blue room, and the smells of cafeteria food greeted Jess’s nose.

  “Hey Martha, busy day?”

  The lady behind the information desk scratched her head under her dyed-red poof of hair with the eraser of her pencil as she responded, “Jessica, honey, you’ve got to come visit me more often! How have you been?”

  “Well, I’ve managed to stay out of this place so I guess I’m pretty good.” She smiled sweetly at the overweight woman, dressed in a purple polyester suit from two decades ago, complete with shoulder pads. Her makeup and nails were meticulous, if not a bit overdone, but she was a kind and jovial soul and Jess had a soft spot for her.

  Martha cackled. “I heard you saved that Ramsey baby yesterday.”

  “I played a part in the rescue, but only a part. I have a great team that deserves the credit more than I. Is the baby still here?”

  “Oh yes. Let me see here.” She ran her long, perfect fingernail down a list of patients on her clipboard and tapped it in triumph as she found the entry. “Room two-one-five. Take the elevator over there on the right.”

  “Thanks Martha.” She stuffed her rain hat into her coat pocket as she turned toward the elevators.

  “You’re welcome, honey. You take care now.”

  Jess rode the elevator up, wondering why she hadn’t taken the stairs instead, and wondering why people on elevators stared stupidly at the floor numbers over the closed door like their lives depended on it.

  She entered the room slowly and quietly. The hospital bed had been pushed over to the wall, occupied by a sleeping woman, and in the middle of the room was an infant bed, the kind that newborns are placed into. The baby seemed so small and helpless hooked up to a respirator, and Jess’s eyes teared up at the sight of it.

  Moving quietly so as not to wake either occupant, she stood at the lower end of the baby’s bed and glanced at the chart hanging there.

  “Michael,” she whispered, watching his little chest rise and fall, overwhelmed by the connection she was feeling to this fragile life. A tear slid down her face. “You’re a lucky little boy — your mama made it out too.”

  She watched him sleep, and her mind slid into the memory from her own childhood, lying in this very hospital at the tender age of six, her Grandma Kate holding her hand as tears welled up in her eyes, telling her that her mother and father both died in the fire.

  Now at age twenty-four, she still dreamed about that fire, could smell the acrid smoke, could feel it burning her eyes, her throat, as it consumed her house. She could feel the fireman grabbing her around her waist, hear her own screams for her mother and father echoing in her head.

  It was a moment she’d never forget. It was what drove her to choose the path of a firefighter. If only one life could be saved by her actions, it could somehow make up for her own loss.

  Grandma Kate, a very caring lady, had raised Jessica as best she could, but smothered her too much after losing her daughter in that fire. She’d died just shy of Jess’s seventeenth birthday and Jess had been shuffled from relative to relative until she was eighteen. She was never ill treated, but she was never loved the way a parent loves a child.

  The memory of it squeezed her heart, and she shook her head to clear her thoughts.

  “You’re that woman that saved my baby.”

  Jess jumped, startled by the woman’s raspy voice.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  Jess moved to the woman’s bedside and gently shook her outstretched hand. “How are you feeling? I’m Jess, by the way.”

  “Ellie Ramsey.” She took a sip of her water with one hand and raised her bed to a sitting position with the push of a button. “I know who you are. Saw you in today’s paper.” Pointing feebly at the newspaper on the windowsill, she continued, “You’re a hero.”

  Jess glanced at the paper. Front page, her big eyes stared into her own black-and-white version with the caption “Local Firefighter Saves Baby.” Surprise and embarrassment flushed her cheeks.

  “I’m not a hero. I was just doing my job.”

  “You’re a hero to me. Running into a burning building is like jumping out of a p
erfectly good airplane. Why would anybody do that? You saved my baby. I can’t tell you how grateful I am.” A fit of coughing overtook her and Jess handed the woman her water.

  “Is your baby going to be okay?” Jess fussed with the woman’s covers, smoothing and arranging as Ellie laid back against the bed, exhausted from her coughing fit.

  “They tell me he’ll be fine. There’s a chance he may develop asthma, but I can live with that.” Another coughing fit ensued. “And so can he.”

  “No more talking. Just rest now. I’m sorry I disturbed your sleep, and I’m glad to hear you’ll both be fine.”

  Jess stole one final look at the sleeping baby.

  “Thank you so much.” Ellie closed her eyes, and Jess slipped out the door.

  Closing the door softly behind her, she turned and stepped right into a broad, muscular chest. She knew before her eyes even traveled up to the chiseled face that it was Cort. Surprise, irritation, and little flutters of excitement all competed with her face’s features.

  “What are you doing here?” She let the irritation win over her voice but the proximity to his warm body won over her face, a hot red blush burning over her cheeks.

  Unexpectedly seeing him unnerved her, and her thoughts scattered like leaves blown by the wind, unable to remember where she’d been going. Breathing in his seductive male scent combined with the hint of leather from his jacket, her body remembered every touch, every feeling between them, and a little stab of pleasure ached deep inside her.

  “I came to check on the Ramsey baby.” He glanced warily down at her hands. “No mugs of beer, I hope.”

  A quiet laugh escaped her lips. “Not at the moment, but I bet if I look around here I’ll find a nice ripe bedpan.”

  Cort snorted out a laugh and stepped closer to Jess. She stepped backward, her back now against the wall, and he placed his hands against the wall on both sides of her, trapping her between. She squirmed uncomfortably, eyes darting from side to side looking for an escape, finally accepting her fate and looking him in the eye in resignation. Amusement and pleasure danced in his melted-chocolate brown eyes, and her gaze roamed to his lips, remembering how warm, how familiar they’d felt last night, and a part of her wanted an encore.