Waltz into Fire

by L. J. Garland

  Grinding his thumb across the pads of his fingers, he glanced up at her with a vexed expression. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

  “No. Must be some electricity in the air. Maybe we’re gonna have a thunderstorm or something.” And how stupid was that to say? There wasn’t a cloud in the night sky.

  “Remember me.”

  Her gaze cut toward the smoldering house, the crackly voice of the fire whispering in her mind. A shiver rippled down her back. Talking fire and static shocks…was she slipping over the edge?

  “Huh. Yeah, maybe.” He laid his hand against the small of her back, his palm warm through her thin T-shirt. “Come on. Let’s go sit over here where I can see better.”

  He retrieved the first-aid kit and guided her to a sturdy picnic table set up with lights, coffee, and ice water. Placing the kit on the table, he stepped up and sat next to the box, so she took a seat on the bench.

  He reached for her arm and paused. “You’re not planning on zapping me again, are you?”

  “Me?” She feigned innocence. “I thought you shocked me.”

  He arched a dark eyebrow. “No, I took an oath to do no harm.”

  “So you’re a doctor?”

  “Well, no.” He twisted toward the first-aid kit and popped the lid open. “I was working on it, but that’s done.” Turning back, he flashed a tight smile. “But I assure you, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of your burn.”

  “Never had a doubt.” She hadn’t missed the eddy of remorse in his eyes. Was it just the lack of a medical degree, or had a woman been responsible for his troubled expression? Not that it mattered. After the night she’d had, she wasn’t about to play shrink. Instead, she offered her injured limb up as a peace offering.

  With exaggerated care, he grasped her wrist and placed her arm across his thigh. His very warm, muscled thigh. Lordy, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been touched so much by a stranger.

  Unable to tear her gaze away, she watched him open a tube of ointment with deft ease. The eligible male population in Rainsville had all but dried up in the last couple of years, and she hadn’t dated since she’d broken up with Jared two years ago.

  Well, let’s be honest. He’d kicked her to the curb for some slutty pole dancer in the next county. And, for some reason, getting dumped for a sleazy stripper called Candi really chapped her ass.

  “So, do you have a name?”

  He focused on her arm, applying the ointment with a feather-light touch. “Sure do. Zane, at your service.”

  “Zane.” She let his name swirl on her tongue. “Thank you for doing this, by the way. I feel guilty for taking you away from David and Ryan.”

  He raised his head and met her gaze, the previous remorse swallowed by intense determination. “Don’t. David is on his way to the hospital with my partner and another EMT who showed up.”

  Fallon peered over her shoulder and found a wiry, blond guy closing the rear doors of the ambulance holding the boy who’d told her the fire had wanted to help her. Help her? She squeezed her eyes closed a moment and forced the thought away.

  When Zane released her arm, she shifted her attention to him.

  “Ryan is packed up and ready to roll with the second crew.” He replaced the ointment in the kit and tore open a bandage pack. With great tenderness, he held her arm in one hand while applying the soft gauze pad with the other. “I volunteered to stay.”

  “Why?” Damn, she sounded almost breathless. “There aren’t any other injuries left.”

  “There’s you.”

  And didn’t her heart pitter-pat at that statement. “Me?”

  “Sure.” He attached tape to one edge of the gauze. “I saw your arm when you took your coat off. I knew you wouldn’t take care of it. You worried over everyone else.”

  “Well, Zane, I don’t know what to say.” She smiled, letting his warm bedside manner wash over her as well as ignite other disturbing images that continued to spark the edges of her mind. “I’m grateful for your care.”

  “As well you should be, Ms. Fallon,” he said, his sexy voice deepening. “I don’t volunteer my services for just anyone.”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “How do you know my name?”

  “I asked.”

  “Really?” A rush of heat dispersed low in her body, and she wondered what other services he might volunteer for. She gave herself a swift mental kick. My, but it’d been a dry run.

  “Yes.” He pressed the last strip of tape in place, securing the gauze pad. Shifting, he dropped the dispenser into the kit while his other hand lingered, warm on her arm.

  “Well,” she said, noting the absence of a ring on his long fingers. “Thank you again for your expert attention, Zane.”

  “Heck, we haven’t even scratched the surface yet.” He laughed, withdrew his hand, and turned to pack up his kit.

  Lordy, if she didn’t know better, she’d swear he was flirting with her. She spied the confident smirk tugging his lips. Heck, maybe he was. And damn if he wasn’t easy on the eyes, too. “Is that right? So you can do more than wrap a burn, Mr. EMT?”

  “You should see the way I give mouth to mouth.” He winked at her. “Although soothing an ache is my specialty.”

  Fallon blinked. It’d been so long since she’d participated in sexy banter, she couldn’t keep up with him. She burst out laughing. “Okay, hot shot, I gotta get to the restaurant. Why don’t you swing by after your shift? I’ll buy you a drink to repay you for taking such good care of me.”

  “Actually, my shift ended thirty minutes ago.” He snapped the first aid lid closed. “What’s the name of this place?”

  “The Engine House over on Picksdale Avenue. Know it?”

  “No, but I can find it.” His eyes narrowed in thought. “So, this Engine House, are you sure it’ll be open this late? It’s already nine-thirty.”

  “I’m sure.” She stood, her heart hammering a crazy beat of anticipation. “I own it, and after a fire like this, the place’ll be packed. The guys will be ravenous and have energy to burn. We’ll be open late tonight.”

  “Zane!” Behind him, another EMT shuffled up the hill toward an emergency truck. “You need a lift?”

  “Yeah,” he yelled over his shoulder. Shifting his attention to Fallon, he said, “Looks like my ride’s here.”

  “So it is.”

  He stepped down from the table and grabbed the kit. He paused, a war of indecision seeming to play out in his eyes. “They’ll all be there?”

  Odd that a moment before he’d been flirty, and now he had backed off. Maybe she’d misread him. She shrugged, attempting to downplay the invite. “Yep, and then some. I probably won’t have much time to talk once we get there.”

  “Is there something I can do?”

  Never had she been around a man who kept her so off-kilter. More often than not, all a guy wanted was a hot tussle in the sheets. Zane continued to amaze her. “Can you cook?”

  He cocked his head. “One of my many, many talents.”

  She laughed again. “Good. You feel up to working off a few beers? I have an apartment above the restaurant, and I reek. If you can get the chow going, it’ll only take me ten minutes to shower and change.”

  He nodded and moved toward the emergency truck, its headlights cutting through the smoke-hazed night. “Sounds like fun.”

  “You may think so now, but you let me know if you still feel the same way when we’re done,” she called after him.

  He chuckled and opened the truck door. Sliding into the passenger seat, he stared at her as they drove off.

  Fallon sighed, looked away, and marched back across the lawn to the fire truck. O’Kelly and Martin still manned a hose, dousing the house to ensure any remaining embers were extinguished.

  “You about done?” she said to O’Kelly.

  The paunchy father of two girls turned to her. “We’ll be packing it in soon.”

  “Saw you chattin’ it up with the new EMT,” Martin said. “Getting
cozy there. Don’t go leading the poor boy astray, Fallon.”

  She stowed her gear in the truck. “Zip it, Martin, or there’ll be no slice of pecan pie waiting for you.”

  “Forget I said a word.” When his partner laughed, he faced him. “Hey, you know she makes the best pie in the county.”

  Fallon grinned and headed toward her pickup truck. “See you guys in an hour.”

  Pulling herself into the spacious cab, she inserted the key into the ignition and started the engine. She shifted into reverse then twisted around to back out and caught a glimmer of amber sparks on the west end of the burned-out house.

  “Remember….”

  O’Kelly must have seen it as well because an arc of water splashed the wall, extinguishing the tiny flame.

  Fallon swallowed. Remember? Hell, forgetting was what she’d have the problem with. Slamming the truck into drive, she forced herself not to stomp the accelerator and made a mental note to call the hospital later to get a report on Ryan and David.

  As she exited the upscale neighborhood, her tension eased. An image of the sexy, dark-haired man who’d tended her arm surfaced in her mind, and she smiled. Zane. An EMT and a cook. What a delicious combination.

  But then her heady anticipation was cut short by an icy rush of realization. She’d invited him to the restaurant. Where all the EMTs, firefighters, and police who worked the scene would be stuffing their faces and drinking beer—crap, most of them were probably already there. No doubt they would eagle-eye her and Zane’s every move.

  What the hell had she been thinking?

  Chapter Four

  What the hell had he been thinking?

  Zane pulled into the gravel parking lot of the Engine House and steered his Jeep into the last slot. Shutting the engine off, he sat, blindly staring out into the dark night.

  Crap. He had no business being here. And he’d had no right flirting with Fallon the way he had. Funny, but now that he was no longer within touching distance of the sultry, dark-haired firefighter, reality had set in.

  He only had a few weeks left—seventeen days to be exact. That was the bottom line. And then his sorry-ass life would be done.

  Zane slammed his palm against the steering wheel. Damn it. He should be out there working overtime, saving lives while he still had the chance and making up for past grievances, not falling for an alluring southern beauty.

  And fall he could. So damn easily.

  Smart, funny, and saves lives, too? She was unlike any other woman he’d met. Sparks had flown between them…literally. And after the initial shock, he’d found himself struggling to keep his hands off her. Lust had soared through his body, a heated rush that had left him craving more.

  Zane shoved his fingers through his hair, realizing ever since that night three months ago when he’d learned his fate, he’d been walking around in some kind of dead zone, focused on nothing but using every precious second remaining in his life to leave a better legacy than what he’d started with. But one touch from Fallon, and he’d forgotten everything. Forgotten about his limited time, about feeling sorry for himself. Hell, he’d even forgotten Mia. Though, not for long. That bitch was never far from his thoughts.

  So, what in hell was he doing here? An image of Fallon carrying that kid out of the fire surfaced in his mind. There’d been an intensity radiating off her, a will to change situations into what she wanted. She was a fighter of fires and a saver of lives. He’d be a world-class asshole to start something with her that he could never finish.

  Zane started the Jeep, the engine rumbling to life. He gripped the steering wheel, torn between the need to see Fallon one last time and leaving well enough alone. If his life had been different, there would be no decision to make. Anger and self-pity—now so familiar to him—ripped through his gut, carving him up from the inside out.

  “Damn you, Mia.”

  Headlights sliced through the darkness, disturbing his thoughts. A red Dodge Dakota veered into the parking lot, stopping alongside the building, and a woman climbed out of the cab.

  Fallon.

  Somehow he’d beaten her to the restaurant. She rounded to the back of her truck and lowered the tailgate, and he quickly figured out why. Two immense metal kegs sat in the bed of her truck, waiting to be unloaded.

  Zane scrubbed his hands over his face and mumbled, “Well, jackass, you’re here. Might as well make yourself useful.”

  He shut off the Jeep’s engine again and swung his door open. Jogging across the gravel parking lot, he hollered to her, “Hey, need a hand?”

  She twisted around, her eyes lighting with recognition. “Yeah, thanks. You’re saving Johnny’s back. He’ll sure be thankful.”

  “Johnny?” Had he misread the entire situation?

  “He helps me out during the day and usually covers for me if there’s a fire, so I don’t have to shut down.” She climbed into the bed of the truck, her heavy boots clunking against the rugged bed liner, and grabbed a large brown paper bag. “Actually, I’m surprised his car’s still here. It’s late. He takes care of his elderly mother and doesn’t like to leave her alone at night, though he will take over when there’s a fire like tonight.”

  Zane snapped his gaze away from her ass. Even in those bulky bunker pants, her rounded bottom was evident. Damn, this woman had him in knots. Much as he knew he shouldn’t be near her, he couldn’t seem to stay away. And he needed to.

  “We’d better get in there then and let the man get home.”

  She turned to face him. “Are you okay? Listen, I won’t hold you to this if you need to be somewhere else.”

  Damn, he hadn’t meant to sound so gruff. “I’m fine.”

  Her narrowed eyes told him she wasn’t convinced. She’d given him an out, and he should’ve taken it. But with her sharp gaze on him, he admitted that leaving was the absolute last thing on his mind.

  “Really, Fallon, I have nowhere else to be. I want to lend a hand. Wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “The fire and that boy have me a little out of sorts. I don’t like it when anyone tries to die on me. Kids just really get to me.”

  She sat on the tailgate and laid her hand on his shoulder, the warmth of her fingers cutting through the icy shroud he bore. “You did great with him though. The guys said you and your partner saved his life. You’ve got to remember that.”

  Reaching up, he took her hand in his and eased closer until he stood between her Nomex-covered knees. God, even covered in soot and ash, she was gorgeous. He stared into her amber eyes, need coiling low in his gut. “There would be no little boy to save if it weren’t for you, Fallon. What you did tonight was huge.”

  She dipped her head and looked toward her feet dangling over the tailgate. “It’s what we’re trained for, same as every other firefighter.”

  Zane cupped her jaw, her supple skin inviting beneath his hand, and coaxed her gaze to his. “Somehow, I think you’re more.”

  Lips parted, she released a breathy sigh. The soft sound triggered a blazing lust within him, a fiery desire so intense that holding back was beyond him. Hell, he might be a doomed man, but he wasn’t dead yet. The overwhelming urge to taste her sweet mouth compelled him to lean closer.

  A door screeched open. “Hey, Fallon, thought I heard you pull in.”

  She reeled back, and he stepped to her side. Angst jolted through him, splitting his reaction between being thankful they’d been interrupted and wanting to kick the guy’s ass for coming outside. He ground his teeth. Damn, he needed to stop this.

  Fallon jumped to the ground. “Hi, Johnny. This here’s Zane. He offered to help me out tonight so you could get out of here.” She grabbed her bag and headed for the side door. “Um, if you could just bring in the kegs and show him around the kitchen, I’d be grateful. I need to go wash off this soot. Oh, and don’t forget to take the leftover peach pie home to your mama. I made three others earlier.” With that, she disappeared.

  “Whew, always in a hurry,
that one.” Johnny ambled to the truck and eyed him. “You new to these parts?”

  Adrenaline ricocheted through Zane, impairing his ability to follow the conversation. One minute, he’d been about to kiss Fallon. The next, she’d vanished, replaced by a graying, sweaty fry cook named Johnny. “Uh, yeah. Moved here last week.”

  He shifted his gaze to the two-story restaurant that appeared to have once been a firehouse. A warm glow poured through the multi-paned windows that stood in place of fire engine doors, and a tasteful, lighted sign glowed against the brick siding. And from the looks of it, the place was packed—just as Fallon had said it would be.

  “Mighty nice of you to help out Ms. Fallon. I’d stay longer, but I don’t like leaving Mother alone at night. She’s eighty-five this year and not seein’ so well these days. Hell gettin’ old, ya know. These knees of mine complain every morning I get up.”

  Johnny rambled on without taking a breath while they unloaded the kegs and carried them inside. With the beer stowed, Zane scanned the kitchen. Nice setup.

  “There’s the grill,” Johnny said and handed him a spatula and apron. “Down there’s the cooler.”

  He moved to a window with a wide ledge and tapped a bell. A moment later, two waitresses approached the opening, one a bottle blonde, the other natural. Their keen gazes locked onto Zane with obvious curiosity.

  “Who’s the cutie?” the older and nicely bottled blonde said.

  Johnny scowled and waved his hand. “Girls, this here’s Zane. He’ll be working in the kitchen for tonight.”

  “Oh, Fallon’s new man,” the other said with a wide grin, her jaw working a piece of chewing gum. “You watch yourself, Johnny, or Zane’ll be taking over that grill.”

  “Don’t give me no lip, Missy.” He shifted his attention to Zane and jerked his chin toward the girls. “This here’s Missy and Darla. They handle the customers. Any questions you have, they’ll know the answers.”

  He nodded to them. “Ladies.”

  “Enough with the cow eyes,” Johnny admonished and waved them off. “You got hungry customers.”