One-Click Buy: March 2009 Harlequin Blaze

by Alison Kent

Callie’s heart fluttered against his chest like a bird cupped loosely in a palm.

  Stay. Why couldn’t he say it? For once in your life, go with your heart, Deck. He took a breath, ready to risk it, except Callie rose onto her elbows and smiled down at him. “I’d love you to see my place in New York.”

  “Sure,” he said, an ache passing through him like a hot knife through butter. “Maybe I’ll visit,” he managed to say.

  She blinked, as if startled by his reply. “There’s so much I can show you.” She bit her lip, then fell away from him to stare up at the sky.

  He felt her absence like a cold wind. A taste of how he’d feel without her. He’d been a fool.

  Maybe he’ll visit? Callie felt stung. They’d grown so close over these months, she thought. She figured he didn’t want it to end any more than she did.

  But she’d been wrong. That was obvious. Once again he was ending it early, being sensible, practical, mature.

  The distance between them suddenly felt as huge as the miles on a map between Abrazo and Manhattan.

  She fought to sort it out, to be mature for once. What did she think he was going to do? Come with her to Manhattan? Live in her apartment? Rent a studio so he could paint like the thousands of aspiring artists in the city?

  “We’ve had fun, haven’t we?” she said finally, her heart in agony. They cared about each other, but maybe that sprang from their past. Maybe they’d healed themselves so they could move on in their separate lives.

  “Sure,” he said flatly. “Lots of fun.”

  Did she love him? Probably, but how far could she go with her crippled heart? Be sensible. This is better.

  For long, painful minutes they stared upward and took tense breaths. Callie couldn’t stand it. She rolled back to look down at him. “Hey. Why so gloomy? I’m not leaving tomorrow. We’ve still got time.”

  He tried to smile. “Sure.” He kissed her, but his lips were barely there. It was a ghost of a kiss.

  She fell back onto the sleeping bag and they resumed staring up at the vast desert sky. They were together, but so alone. Callie’s heart twisted in her chest.

  Go, go, get out of here. Her mantra started up in her head. As soon as the resort’s operation was set, the upswing assured, she’d get the hell back where she belonged. Whatever was left of her heart was already in agony.

  IN DECK’S DREAM, Callie surprised him by agreeing to go on a horse pack trip. If it went well, she’d said she would stay. He was so happy until the campfire started to smoke. Billowing clouds of smoke had them both coughing and rubbing stinging eyes. Dammit, this would ruin everything.

  He fought to move, to put out the fire. He had to save Callie, save her good feelings, keep her happy.

  Danger. Wake up. Now. He jerked up, breathing hard. Awake. He’d been sleeping under the trees near the ranch house, Callie beside him. There was no pack trip and no campfire.

  So why did he still smell smoke?

  Flickering light drew his gaze to the annex, not a hundred yards away, where flames licked at the empty window frames. Smoke rose, ominous in the moonlight, a dangerous gray against the black night.

  He touched Callie’s shoulder. “Wake up, Callie.”

  She opened her eyes and blinked, dazed. “What happened?”

  “There’s a fire. Everyone’s safe if the wind stays calm, but we should empty the ranch house just in case.”

  She nodded, leaning out of the bag, grabbing her clothes, shaking her head to wake up.

  Deck dialed 911, dressing while he talked to the dispatcher. Rural Metro had a fast response time, he knew, but the fire looked well established, no doubt feeding on the newly varnished walls.

  They jogged to the ranch house together. Inside, sleepy-looking people were already tromping down the stairs, led by Cal, Dahlia holding his arm. How the hell did they know?

  “Fire trucks are on the way,” Deck told Cal.

  “I was making tea when I saw the fire,” Dahlia said, her eyes huge.

  “Here.” Cal handed Deck a key. “This is the master. Check all the rooms. Make sure everyone’s out.”

  Deck nodded and Cal led Dahlia out the door.

  Callie was reassuring the guests as they headed outside. “You’re in no danger. The fire is in the next building. We’ll be back inside in a jiff.” She managed to sound calm, though Deck heard the fear beneath her words.

  After he’d checked the guest rooms, Deck searched the ground floor to be sure everyone was outside. In the Cummingses’ kitchen, he found a teapot on the floor in a puddle of water, the stove burner glowing red. He turned it off, then checked the window. Sure enough, the fire was clearly visible from here. What the hell was Dahlia doing making tea at three in the morning?

  When he emerged from the ranch house, he heard the low whine of a siren. The guests, in pajamas or robes or wrapped in blankets, murmured and pointed at the fire, now roaring yellow against the dark sky.

  The casitas, far enough away not to be disturbed by the noise, were dark. Except…he noticed three men outside the farthest one, silently watching. Callie’s investors, he thought. What had awakened them?

  The siren got louder as it hit the ranch road. But the vehicle wasn’t loud enough for a fire truck and soon he saw that it was Taylor Loft, jerking to a stop at a reckless angle, kicking up dust, as if he had to rush to save the day. What an ass. It wasn’t like the guy to even show for a fire. He wanted to look like a hero for Callie, no doubt.

  Sure enough, he headed straight for her.

  A second police car pulled up. Tad Renner got out, spoke to Loft, then began setting out unnecessary traffic cones and marking off the annex with yellow tape. Deck went to help him. Taylor, the officious prick, ordered the guests to move back, though no one was anywhere near the fire.

  Within minutes two engines, a fire truck and an ambulance arrived and set to work on the fire. EMTs made sure no guests had injuries or had inhaled smoke.

  Callie finished talking with the lead fire fighter and turned toward Deck. She looked devastated.

  “You okay?” he asked her.

  “The annex will be gone. They can’t save it.”

  “You have insurance. Templeton, too.”

  “We had trouble with the breakers. Could it be electrical?”

  “That’s possible. I’m sure the varnish sped the burn.”

  “Varnish!” She gasped. “Oh, God. The workers left cans in the hall, so I tucked them in an alcove. Could that have caused it? Varnish fumes? I hid them with pampas grass. Dry grass! Talk about tinder.”

  “The temperature has to be high to cause combustion. You need ignition, a spark or something…”

  “We had kerosene lanterns all over the place. Maybe we left one burning. The ledges were hammered in a hurry. If one gave way…” She pressed the heels of her hands against her temples. “Is this my fault? Was I negligent?” Her voice shook.

  “It was an accident,” he said. “And no one was hurt.”

  “That’s true.” She looked toward the guests. “What will the travel writers say about this? I have to go smooth this over. Lord knows how long it will be before they let us back in.”

  She started away, but he caught her arm. “Give yourself a minute, Callie. You’ve had a shock.”

  “I don’t have a minute. I have guests.” She set off with determined strides toward the crowd.

  Soon she was gesturing and laughing, completely at ease, covering for a disaster that had devastated her. Which was exactly what she’d done at her mother’s funeral—handed out food and drinks, offering solace to her mother’s friends and her dad.

  They should have been comforting her, Deck had thought at the time. Was he the only one who saw the misery behind her smile, the deadness in her eyes? He’d noticed her hair shivering against her collarbone. She was trembling, but no one else saw or cared. He’d gone to her and touched her arm.

  “What is it?” she’d asked distractedly.

  “Come outside with me.”


  “I have guests.”

  “Just for a second.” He took her by the elbow and led her outside. “Now breathe for a bit, okay? You look like you’re about to faint.”

  She stood still. Soon, tears began to spill down her cheeks. She brushed them violently away. “I have to go. I need to cheer people up.”

  “What about you? Who cheers you up, Callie?”

  She blinked and seemed to fight a sob.

  He pulled her into his arms. “It’ll be okay. It will. Eventually.” People’s words from his father’s funeral swirled in his head. He snatched the ones that had helped and offered them to her: “This is hell…It’s unfair…You’ll think you can’t go on and then you’ll wish you didn’t have to. Take it day by day. Find what makes you feel better and keep doing that. Hang on for time to pass.”

  Callie looked at him, eyes wide, drinking in his words, nodding, slowly accepting. Gradually, tension drained from her face and body. He’d helped her and he’d been glad.

  He would help her now. When she returned, he asked her what she needed. Her answer made him shake his head. She wanted him to help her haul booze out of the ranch house. She wanted to turn the disaster into a party.

  When they’d brought it out to the casitas, Deck noticed her investors didn’t join in. They stayed on their deck in the far casita calmly smoking cigars, talking quietly. Their investment had just burned to the ground. Shouldn’t they be worried, full of questions? Maybe they knew more about insurance than he did.

  “JUST A LITTLE added excitement,” Callie said, passing out plastic glasses of beer, wine and tequila shots. She’d unlocked the unused casitas and turned on all the lights. “Wish I’d remembered the marshmallows and weenies. We could have a real roast out here.” The joke was almost more than she could bear.

  “Just a bit of a setback,” she said to a clump of writers smoking on the porch. “We’ll have the annex back in a jiff.”

  “You think so?” said a hard-eyed writer with a syndicated travel column vital to Rancho de Descanso’s visibility.

  “I know so.” She had no idea how long it would take, but she had to salvage what coverage she could. “We still have accommodations for thirty. With our new amenities, Rancho de Descanso remains an ideal destination. Wait until you hit the hot springs tomorrow. And the massages! Our therapists melt every muscle into liquid….”

  She kept talking, assuaging fears, assuring everyone that by the time their stories saw print, the fire would be a distant memory. Meanwhile, she fought despair. Would insurance pay? How soon? With Valhalla holding back funding, what would she do for cash? As if things weren’t bad enough, she looked up to find Taylor striding her way.

  She met him as far away from her guests as possible, not wanting his uniform to upset them. “What’s up?” she asked.

  “I need to interview your people about what they saw or heard related to the fire. Should I set up in the far casita?”

  “I just got them calmed down. No one saw anything, Taylor. Can we skip that? Please?”

  “It’s protocol for an investigation.”

  “What investigation?” Her heart thudded in her chest.

  “A structural fire is considered suspicious until determined otherwise,” he said. “Tucson will send out an investigator and you can expect the state fire marshal.”

  “You mean arson?” She was horrified. “They assume arson?”

  “They’ll look at who had motive and opportunity, consider who might benefit from the fire.”

  “Who could possibly benefit?”

  “You’d be surprised, Callie.” He paused. “I’m sorry to say this, but you and your father will be prime suspects.”

  “Why would we burn down the annex? We built it to make money on.”

  “Insurance. That’s the obvious answer. To anyone who doesn’t know you, of course.” He paused, letting his words sink in. “The insurance company will send out investigators, too. They’d love to find a reason not to cover the claim. When John Granger’s Feed & Seed went up in smoke, it took forever to settle. Brace yourself. This will drag on, I guarantee.”

  “This is terrible.” Her throat closed so tight she could hardly breathe, and she felt dizzy enough to fall.

  Taylor put his arm around her. “Are you all right?” For a second, Callie caught an odd light in his eyes, a twist to his mouth. Was it suspicion? Guilty glee? He looked calculating.

  She blinked and stepped away. When she looked back, his expression was concerned, which was what she expected. She must have misread him in her panic.

  “You won’t be the only suspects,” he added. “Your investors wouldn’t be the first to use arson to get out of debt. Do you know where Mr. Markham was all night?”

  “In his casita, I’m sure.” In bed with that cute camerawoman from the Tucson TV station, if she guessed right.

  “So…where should I set up for the interviews?” he asked.

  She looked over at the guests. They’d been good sports so far, but keeping them around for endless questions would ruin everything. “Everyone was asleep. We woke them up to get them out. Please don’t harass them.”

  Taylor studied her, then seemed to come to a decision. “I know this has been rough on you, Callie. Give me contact info on everyone and I’ll take the heat for not doing the interviews on the scene.”

  “Thank you,” she said, faint with relief.

  “Don’t let this get to you, Callie,” he said. “It will all work out. You’ll see.” She caught calculation again. Odd.

  “Everything all right?” Deck approached, standing beside her, leaning in as if to protect her from Taylor.

  “I’ll keep you updated,” Taylor said to Callie, ignoring Deck. “Have a good night now.” He walked off.

  “What was he after you for?” Deck demanded.

  “He says me and my father will be suspects for arson.”

  “That’s nuts. That’s Loft acting like a big shot.”

  “He said it’s presumed arson until proven otherwise.”

  “I don’t know about that.”

  “The Feed & Seed fire took forever to settle, did you know that?”

  “There was a spat between the owners over the deed. Loft’s just trying to scare you.”

  “He succeeded. The whole place was a fire hazard. I had Christmas lights plugged in, extension cords everywhere. And those varnish cans with the dry grass right there. Hell, it would look like arson to me, too.”

  “It was an accident. Don’t assume the worst.”

  “You’re right. I don’t have time to panic.” She was host to this awful bonfire party and she had to keep smiling.

  She had the rest of the weekend to show the writers a good time, make them forget the fire. She made a mental note to have the spa manager make up gift baskets of Dahlia’s products. She’d include free-weekend gift cards, too, giving away revenue she doubted they could afford.

  When the fire crew gave her the all-clear, the guests shuffled back to their rooms and she headed toward the porch to go up to bed. “Do you want company?” Deck asked.

  She felt a stab of sadness that he felt he had to ask. “Please,” she said, not wanting to be alone at the moment.

  Upstairs, in bed she felt exhausted but still wired, her mind swirling with concerns. Deck tried to hold her, but she was so tense it must have been like hugging a pillar. “Would it help to talk about it?” he asked.

  “I don’t know what will help. My mind is spinning. What if the insurance doesn’t come through? Valhalla delayed the Phase Two check and Garrett advanced me credit.”

  “We don’t know anything yet. You’ll call the insurance people in the morning. You need information right now.”

  “Without the annex, there are only so many more bookings we can handle. And we need more bookings to turn the corner.”

  “You’ll make it work. It’ll just take more time.”

  “But I don’t have more time! I have to go!” The words burst out of h
er. “I need this to be over.”

  Deck didn’t speak, but she could tell she’d wounded him.

  “I’m sorry, Deck. I’ve enjoyed you and I’ve enjoyed being here, it’s just that—”

  “You want to be done and gone. Yeah. I get that.”

  “There’s an opportunity in New York for me and it won’t wait forever. I’m selling out to my partner and joining a big firm….” Her words trailed off. She hadn’t helped anything. They lay there, blanketed in tense silence once again.

  When she heard Deck’s breathing slow and knew he’d dropped off, she slid from under his arm and went to the window. She could see the charred remains of the new wing, black and jagged in the moonlight, the yellow tape flickering in the breeze.

  Freaked out, she opened the window for some air, but the smell of smoke taunted her with its sour pall.

  What now? What would she do?

  A horse whinnied from the barn. As a kid, riding at night had been her secret thrill. Maybe that would help her now. Silently dressing, she slipped out of the room and down the stairs to find out.

  DECK WOKE WITH A START to find Callie gone. He’d drifted off, but she hadn’t. He wasn’t surprised. He noticed the window was open and went to look out in time to see a rider fly by on a horse. Callie on Brandy. She looked so beautiful, leaning over, riding hard. She belonged here. It was so obvious to him. Here she was herself, simply Callie. Her own woman.

  His woman.

  Yeah, right. She couldn’t wait to escape. He watched her slow, then ride to the charred remains of the new wing. She got off the horse and looked over the wreck. She seemed small and so sad he had to go to her.

  He skimmed the stairs and loped out of the ranch house, reaching it in seconds. “Did the ride help?” he asked softly.

  She spun to him, startled. She managed a tight smile. “I’m more tired now, I guess. Maybe that will help.”

  “Is there anything I can do…or say?”

  She shook her head. “Thanks, Deck, but no. I just have to get through this.” She was shutting him out. He could tell she wanted him to hold her, wanted his comfort, but decided she didn’t dare accept it. Maybe she was right.