Light My Fire: A Loveswept Classic Romance

by Donna Kauffman

  T.J. didn’t miss her clenched jaw as she turned. He wasn’t the only one with throbbing body parts. He growled under his breath at the unnecessary reminder. “Be careful,” he warned. “I know you care, we both do, but don’t hurt yourself unnecessarily, Jenna.” His voice was sharp with concern.

  “You coming or staying?” was all she said, her back to him as she hobbled slowly toward Bob’s insistent bleating.

  “I’ll get there eventually. Don’t worry about me.”

  “Didn’t say I was.”

  T.J. smiled at that. “Yeah well, just in case.”

  “What, hell freezes over?” She kept moving.

  T.J. continued to smile. “That or you let down your guard enough to admit you do care.”

  “In your dreams, Delahaye,” she called back.

  “Oh, you can bet you’ll play a significant role in those, Hopalong.”

  All he heard was a snort. His knee screamed bloody murder when he asked it to move, but move it he did. He smiled even as he swore. He might be confused about a lot of stuff right now, but he was crystal clear on one thing. He wasn’t through exploring yet. And until he was, he wasn’t going to let Jenna King out of his sight.

  Jenna clamped her teeth tighter to keep the moans of pain locked in. She’d survived some extremely tough physical tests during her career, but this one ranked right up there at the top. Her ankle had moved beyond throbbing into a steady hot burning pain. The effort required to keep it lifted off the ground made it feel more like an anvil than a foot. She didn’t even want to look at her hands. The socks she’d wound on for protection had long ago become one with her skin. Bob’s continued braying provided an aptly dour sound track for her unpleasant thoughts. “Yeah, yeah keep your shaggy, mud-caked fur on,” she said between pants of exertion. “I’m coming. Again.”

  Thinking about the llama didn’t make her own pain any easier to ignore, but it did help divert her mind from that kiss.

  Okay, so it didn’t divert all of her mind. She’d obviously lost a good chunk of it back there with T.J. Had that actually been her voice all breathy and bothered? She felt her skin heat up clear down to her chest. It was a good thing she’d been crutch-dependent, or she’d probably have completely humiliated herself and pressed her body right up against T.J.’s smooth, mile-wide chest.

  Lord, even standing there doing nothing but grinning, the man made her feel more female than she’d ever come close to feeling in her entire life. And if that weren’t enough to tempt a nun to sin, the man kissed like he’d made it his life’s work to learn every possible nuance of a woman’s mouth and master them all.

  Of course, she realized with a small snarl that felt uncomfortably like jealousy, maybe he had. For all she knew, the man had a woman tucked away behind every pine tree in Oregon. And whatever it was he rescued people from, logic dictated that a fair share of his clients were women. Women who’d be more than willing to show their gratitude any way he wanted it to be shown.

  Her heart rate sped up again. Her continued exertion in the face of almost total exhaustion was only part of the cause.

  Bob’s bleat turned into a series of guttural wails, each more pitiful than the last.

  She should be thanking Bob, not cursing him. After all, he’d saved her from making a total fool of herself. So why didn’t she feel very fortunate? They might have been joined only at the mouth, but T.J. had easily managed to telegraph his wants and desires. And she knew he’d desired her. Her.

  She did smile then. It was a heady thing.

  It was a ridiculous thing, her inner voice shot back.

  She sighed and paused long enough to redistribute her weight on her palms. The rough stubs that formed the uneven Y of the crutch were wreaking havoc on the skin under her arms and above her ribs as well. Was it really so ridiculous? she asked silently, her pain, no matter how intense, unable to divert her mind. What would it have hurt to indulge this one time? she wondered. This one time when the attraction was mutual and nothing was at stake but a few new experiences? Nothing would or could come of this unlikely liaison, so why not wander the path to its natural and quite probable mutually satisfying conclusion?

  What in the hell else did she have to look forward to anyway?

  She moved on, sucking in air as her palms once again gripped the crutches. She purposely didn’t look back to see where he was. He was following her. She knew it without having to check. She could feel him behind her.

  A small chuckle that sounded more like a sob escaped her tightly pressed lips as she allowed her mind to follow through on their earlier kiss. Even if Bob hadn’t interrupted, where could it have gone?

  She pictured them lying on the ground writhing … in agony. They were both so banged up, they were lucky to have managed the kiss. “Quit while you’re ahead for once,” she ground out under her breath.

  There was a tricky spot ahead, about fifteen or twenty yards wide, where the banks of the stream had overflowed all the way up to the tree line. Even though the water had receded, the mud and muck it left behind provided a serious challenge. One she wasn’t sure she was up to. But going around meant going up, and that was definitely not happening.

  She traced Bob’s path. His two-toed tracks were clear in the mud; deep, but not oozed over. If she was really careful …

  Jenna mercifully stopped thinking about T.J. and his kisses and focused on navigating herself through the next several yards of mud.

  The jagged ends of the crutches spiked into the mud, making forward motion slow and dangerously uneven. Her booted foot sank to the ankle before finding solid ground, forcing her to press harder on her palms in order to pull it out to move forward, only to sink it in again. Each inch forward felt like a mile, but she didn’t dare pause, fearing her foot would sink so deeply, she’d get stuck. Again. It was the one thing that kept her pushing on.

  Bob’s racket was getting louder, which meant she was closer. If she hadn’t needed all her breath and then some, she’d have called out to him, tried to soothe him. It was hard to see past the bend, but he had to be past the curve. A few more yards …

  Jenna groaned. Might as well be a hundred, she thought dispiritedly. As she neared the other side the ground grew firmer. It should have been a relief, but she was so exhausted now, she wasn’t sure she could keep herself from collapsing the instant she was on dry, hard land.

  “You’re almost there, Jenna.” The shout surprised her, momentarily making her dip precariously to the right and almost lose her balance. “You can do it.”

  T.J.’s deep voice was like a stroke of velvet across nerves stretched well past their snapping point. She couldn’t turn even her head at this point, her energy focused one hundred percent on the dry patch of dirt and grass less than five feet ahead, but some still-functioning part of her brain guessed he’d begun crossing the mudflats.

  His words bolstered her flagging determination right when she needed it most. She groaned long and loud, past worrying about appearances and pride, as she pulled her foot from the last inch or two of muck and stumbled awkwardly onto solid ground. She’d done it!

  Bob chose that moment to let out a particularly sharp-pitched wail. A stark reminder that her mission wasn’t over yet. She wanted to lie down and sob. And sleep. She had nothing left. Bob would have to wait until she’d had some rest. A month should do it.

  Jenna’s gaze was still locked on the soft patch of grass, which by now had assumed oasislike proportions. Her knee was already bending, her mind already halfway to sleep when a panicked series of bleats filled the air.

  Through the haze of her exhaustion it occurred to her that the baby llama could probably see her now, and that this was the cause of his excited ruckus. “I’m sorry, Bob,” she said, the words more rasp than her intended shout. She tore her gaze from her oasis to look for him. “You’re going to have to wa—” She broke off as she spied him, the rest of the sentence lost on a long sigh of relief. “Looks like you found your way home after all.”
r />   Or almost.

  Bob was stuck in a tangle of broken fencing and barbed wire, part of an otherwise solid wooden fence with barbed wire strung along the top that ran in a northwesterly direction as far as she could see. In the distance she could make out the shapes of several outbuildings. Though it was hard to tell their condition or much else from where she was, they were obviously part of a ranch of some kind. And a ranch meant people. People meant help.

  Their ordeal was almost over.

  Adrenaline raced through her tired body, but it made her feel queasy rather than energized. There was nothing left to rev up. The ranch was less than a quarter mile away by her estimation, but it might as well have been in the next universe. She had to rest. Right there. Right now.

  “Jenna!”

  T.J. She spared a shred of mental energy to wonder how he’d managed to make it so far; his knee was worse than her ankle.

  Even without the fall, she knew she could no longer hack it. She’d known it when she left Paradise, but only now did the reality of it truly hit her. Despair descended over her like a dark, suffocating cloak, adding its weight to her already formidable burden. She was never going back to the Aerial Fire Depot in Missoula. She was never going back to work for the Forest Service.

  She was never going to fight another fire.

  Dread sent a sick chill over her skin. She weaved unsteadily as her stomach rolled, wondering if she even had the strength to be sick.

  Weak. You’re weak, Jenna King. No! she shouted silently. I can’t be. I’m strong and able. A sob escaped her lips. I have to be. It’s the only thing I have.

  “Jenna!”

  T.J. was coming for her. Rescue. Rescue me. For some reason her overtaxed brain could no longer fathom, that wasn’t supposed to make her feel good, wasn’t supposed to bring her comfort. But all she could think of was how good his arms felt wrapped around her, how wonderful she’d felt with his mouth hot and demanding on hers, how heady and powerful she’d felt kissing him back and feeling his response. Powerful. Strong. T.J. Why was that wrong? Her thoughts scattered like bits of paper in the wind; too many, flying in too many directions for her to gather. No control. Frustration. Fear. The awful taste of desperation.

  Help me! She felt the ground move under her feet and stared at it, trying to make sense out of everything … anything. But it was too hard, and she was too tired. So tired.

  “Jenna!”

  She shook her head and the world spun. Bob’s frantic bleating made her mind spin even more. Hurry, T.J. Ranch. Rescue. From someplace deep down inside her, she summoned whatever she had left and called out, “Ranch ahead.” Then her body decided that was it. Her knee buckled, and she let the crutches fall as she collapsed to the ground.

  NINE

  T.J.’s heart stopped when he saw her fall. He’d known she was near the end of her rope. He should have never let her go. Yeah, right. No one “let” Jenna King do anything. At any other time he’d have smiled, but right now his stomach was halfway up his throat.

  “Damn!” He’d have given anything for two good knees right at that moment. After seeing how far she’d sunk in, he’d managed to maneuver uphill with a sideways hop that wouldn’t have won him any grace awards but had enabled him to avoid the mud. He was past the mud now, but he still had to maneuver back down the slope, which was a bit steeper at this end. A small stand of trees kept him from seeing any farther downstream than Jenna’s crumpled form, but he knew Bob was just past her.

  “Damn llama,” he said, trying several different angles for his descent but finding none that wouldn’t land him at the bottom of the hill in a heap. And he’d already done that one more time than he needed to today. He swore long and hard as he painfully lowered himself to a sitting position, describing in great detail what he’d do to Bob once he got his hands on him.

  He knew none of this was Bob’s fault, but it made him feel better to vent his anger and frustration, and picturing Jenna trying to hide her amusement behind offended outrage helped some too.

  “Llamaburger, llama pot roast, llama pâté. A nice woolly coat.”

  He shifted so his back was facing downslope, balanced his crutches across his lap and awkwardly propped his braced leg on the shin of his good one. He began inching backward down the slope. His doctors would be able to retire after he paid for the damage he’d done to himself during this escapade.

  Retire.

  No. Don’t even think it. He shut his mind down to one thing. Get to Jenna, that became his mantra. Seemingly hours later, though it was probably about half of one, he hobbled the final few yards to Jenna’s crumpled form.

  Despite the dirt streaks and paleness of her skin, she looked like a child at rest. A troubled child. Her mouth was tight rather than relaxed and a small furrow creased the skin between her eyebrows. His fingers flexed around the rough bark of his crutches as he recalled the soft feel of her cheek. She was curled on her side, her mud-caked hands folded under her chin. Her chest rose and fell evenly. She was asleep. T.J. breathed a sigh of relief. Still, he wanted to be sure. He began the arduous task once again of lowering his frame to the ground.

  Bob’s whiny grunts filled the air. T.J. stopped and reluctantly dragged his gaze away.

  “It’s okay,” he called, his tone soothing, “you big clumsy furball.” Bob was tangled up pretty good. He didn’t see any blood, but the barbs were meshed well into his fur. Without wire cutters or shears, heaven only knew how he was going to get the silly beast loose. At least he wasn’t squirming much, worn out most likely. “Yeah, I’m going to save your hairy backside.” T.J.’s voice calmed him. “Just stop wiggling those things in deeper, okay?”

  But first he had to make sure Jenna was okay, or at least not any worse.

  Several grunts and another string of invectives later, he was seated in the grass by her shoulders. He took a pulse check on her neck, then listened to her respiration. The former was a bit slow, and though her breathing was shallow, it was even. He wanted to check her pupils, but he felt fairly certain she was sleeping not passed out, and he didn’t want to wake her yet. God knew they both needed about a week’s rest, not to mention medical attention that would probably include a hospital stay.

  From his seated position, a slight rise in the terrain and the scrub brush blocked his view of the fence. Jenna’s shout had been weak, but he’d heard her cry “ranch” and assumed the fence surrounded one. From what he could tell, there, where the valley spread out a bit wider, some of it had escaped the ravages of fire. He hoped that was true for the rest of the ranch as well. He should get up and check it out and see what he could do about Bob. And he would. In a minute.

  She needed more rest. He didn’t have the heart to wake her up and make her face one last trek. From the angle of the sun, he estimated several good hours of daylight and warmth still remained. Letting her use one for sleep seemed wise. T.J. couldn’t keep his hands away, though. He lightly stroked her cheek and smoothed the wild curls wisping around her face. He wondered how all that thick hair would look when it was unbound. His fingers itched to turn thought to deed.

  “I’ll see those waves of thick hair. And before we part for good, I’ll taste you again, Jenna King.” He told himself the soft words were to keep Bob calm, but he knew they were for himself too. Slowly, as he continued to stroke his fingertips over Jenna’s forehead and hair, the tenseness in her skin smoothed out and her mouth slowly relaxed. Her breathing slowed and deepened, and he realized after a time that his had slowed to match it. Again and again, he stroked her, quietly stunned by his own reaction. How was it that merely touching this woman brought him a peace he couldn’t recall ever feeling?

  He traced his fingers lightly down her cheek and under her mouth, wanting to continue until he’d memorized the feel of every inch of her, along with her taste, her smell, her sound, her touch. She was imprinted on his soul. “Parting from you won’t be easy,” he murmured. Hell, the idea of not touching her anymore already seemed like a monumenta
l act of self-denial.

  More to prove to himself that he could than out of any desire to do so, he slowly lifted his hand, curling his fingers into a tight fist to keep from putting them right back on her skin. He felt instantly bereft. The slight frown that just as instantly curved her mouth started a small, hot ache in the vicinity of his heart. No, watching Jenna King walk away would not be easy.

  And she’d have to walk. It had taken all his will to stop touching her. He didn’t think he had enough anywhere inside him to enable him to be the one to leave.

  Bob. Rescue Bob. He sighed. The mere idea of trying to haul himself upright again was almost too daunting to contemplate. How much easier and more wonderful it would be to curl up on this nice patch of sun-warmed grass and pull Jenna’s sleeping body to nestle against him.…

  With a restrained groan, T.J. shifted his body.

  His mouth twisted into a grimaced smile as he balanced his weight on his good leg and conned his shoulder into helping him use one crutch to pull himself upright. He and Jenna were more alike than she knew.

  T.J. carefully edged around Jenna, unable to resist one last peek. He frowned as he saw the return of tension lines to her face. As gratifying as it was to know that his touch could ease her troubles, even if it was only subconsciously, he’d rather she had no troubles at all. Or that she’d share them with him so he could find a way to really help.

  He resolutely turned away and made his way toward the baby. First things first.

  The first thing he saw when he scanned the open acreage beyond the fence line was salvation.

  Not ten feet on the other side was a utility shed tucked up under the pine trees. It was an old plain board building with tin roofing of a decent enough size to hold a tractor at least. But it was what was parked in front of the shed that had caught T.J.’s attention. FARM USE, T.J. read off the hand-painted back plates of the more-rust-than-metal pickup truck. As long as it ran, T.J. didn’t much care what it looked like.