Waltz into Fire

by L. J. Garland

  Zane grinned, and the blondes scurried into the packed dining area, sashaying to opposite ends of the room to take orders. Through the serving window, the rhythmic twang of country rock mixed with the hum of conversation and clatter of dishes and beer mugs.

  Johnny removed his stained apron and dropped it in a bin. “You good?”

  “Got it under control.” Zane laced the crisp white swath of cotton the cook had given him around his waist and tied it off. “Don’t forget that peach pie for your mother.”

  “Got it right here,” he said, holding up a generous pie plate covered with plastic wrap. “Gotta scoot.” Johnny shuffled toward the rear door then angled back. “Oh, yeah. A letter came for Fallon earlier. It’s over there on the counter. Looks important, so make sure she sees it.”

  Zane spied the legal envelope on a desk next to the door. “Will do.”

  With a nod, the aging fry cook shuffled out the back door. “Night.”

  So this is Fallon’s restaurant. Impressive. Just like the owner. An image of her of her sexy eyes and provocative mouth invaded his mind. Never had a woman set him on the constant edge of anticipation like this.

  Except for Mia.

  Fear shot through him, icing his bones to the marrow. Could Fallon be another scheming bitch like Mia? His gaze cut to the door Johnny had just exited. Refuge waited beyond that threshold. And his death.

  He glanced at a set of stairs leading to the upper floor. No, his attraction to Fallon was nothing like the obsession Mia had commanded. She’d taken everything, leaving him empty and counting the days to his demise. Fallon inspired life, her vitality weaving through his soul, awakening a desire he’d believed lost forever.

  No, Fallon was nothing like that evil woman.

  Zane turned and caught Missy clipping an order to the wire spanning the serving window. She flashed him a smile, grabbed two mugs, and rushed over to the tap. Snatching the paper, he scanned the neat handwriting. Two burgers all the way and fries? No problem.

  Fifteen minutes later, he set the plates on the sill and rang the bell. Behind him, several other orders sizzled on the grill. He retrieved two more slips from the wire. Patty melt and a basket of hot wings.

  “Looks like you’ve got it all under control.”

  He’d sensed Fallon a moment before she’d spoken. Setting the slips in his hand aside, he lifted his gaze and stared at the woman who stood near the bottom of the stairs at the rear of the kitchen. Swiping his palms on a towel, he rounded the end of the prep counter and paused.

  She leaned against the door, her hands on snug, jean-clad hips, and nodded her approval. “The apron looks good on you.”

  “Thanks.” His pulse bumped wildly at the sight of her. A tight, red tee with some kind of swirled black and white graphic hugged her body, revealing delicious curves his fingers longed to trace. “I’d say you cleaned up pretty good.”

  She grinned and removed an elastic band from her wrist. Twisting her ebony hair up into a knot, she secured her tresses in place and tilted her head. “You’re on fire.”

  He stepped toward her, his gaze locked on her sultry mouth. “I think you’re hot, too.”

  Her lips quirked. “No. Your burgers. They’re burning.”

  Processing her words, he frowned and glanced at the grill. “Shit.”

  Flames engulfed the patties he’d just dropped on the stainless slats. Snatching the spatula, he flipped the burgers free of the fire while Fallon doused the blaze with a glass of water. Smoke billowed into the exhaust and the steel grate sizzled.

  “Wow.” Zane eyed Fallon, noting the exhilaration that tinged her eyes. “Two fires in one day.”

  She laughed, the sound snagging him low in the gut. “Never a dull moment.”

  He glanced down. “I see you’ve removed the bandage I put on earlier.”

  “I took it off when I went through the shower.” She held up her arm, revealing smooth creamy skin. “All better.”

  He stared. “That was a nasty burn.”

  She shrugged. “I’ve always healed up pretty quick.”

  He raised a brow. Pretty quick was an understatement for the injury he’d cleaned and wrapped a few hours ago. To keep from touching her, he busied his hands, positioning buns on two plates. She brushed past him, and his breath caught. God, she beckoned him without even trying.

  “You make a mean burger, Zane West.”

  He rounded on her, his brows raised. “How…?”

  “I asked,” she said with a grin.

  “Really?” Pleasure flowed through him. She’d asked about him, just like he’d asked about her.

  “Also heard you came down from New York.” She smirked and twirled away from him, her cowboy boots scraping over the tiled floor. “So, city boy, let’s get cooking.”

  She reached up to a stereo system mounted on a wall, and with a flick of her wrist, a driving rock-and-roll beat permeated the kitchen. Gyrating her hips, she danced over to the grill where she tossed steaks, pork chops, and hamburgers onto the steel grate in time to the music. Mesmerized by her seductive movements, Zane imagined her beneath him, naked and writhing in a similar fashion. Lust arrowed through him, his body’s reaction hard and immediate.

  He pivoted away, focusing on prepping plates. How the hell was he supposed to cook when all he could think about was ripping her clothes off and wrapping her long legs around his waist? Impossible!

  Missy and Darla hung more slips on the wire, and through sheer will, Zane managed to organize the orders for the brave and dedicated souls of Rainsville, Texas, without sweeping Fallon into his arms for a kiss. When he grabbed a tray of empty beer mugs from the serving window, he realized the place had emptied out.

  He glanced at his watch, the digital readout indicating well after midnight. Three hours had passed, yet to him, the night had seemed to fly by in an instant. For the first time in weeks, his problems had abandoned him, allowing him to breathe, to enjoy the moments. To live.

  He peered over his shoulder at Fallon, who stood at the counter, covering leftovers with plastic wrap and storing them in the refrigerator. A rock ballad wound through the kitchen, and though the serenade played at a lower volume, Fallon’s boots still thumped against the terracotta tiles. He couldn’t understand how, but she’d given him a reprieve from the hell his life had become.

  “I’m heading home,” Darla announced. “Missy’s already left, so I’ll lock the door behind me.”

  Fallon glanced up. “Thanks, hon. See you tomorrow.”

  “Let me walk you out,” Zane said and escorted the waitress to the door.

  With keys in hand, she paused just outside the door and said, “Nice job tonight, Zane. Hope to see you around.” With a wink, she crossed the lot to her car and drove off.

  Zane locked the door and turned to find Fallon in the dining area with him. She’d removed her apron and stood holding an icy, longneck brew in each hand.

  “I believe we agreed on a beer as compensation for your greatly appreciated services tonight.” She set the brews on a nearby table, the bottles clacking against the wood surface, and pulled out a chair.

  He strode toward her, the strains of a slow country song wafting through the room, the female artist crooning about the love she felt for her man. Zane sat across from Fallon, spying a flicker of interest in her eyes. Was that for him?

  Grabbing the ale, he clinked his bottle to hers and drank deep. Something about the southern beauty tugged at him, drew him with a need he found both compelling and ill-fated—since only sixteen days remained of his life.

  But tonight had been different. For him, anyway. And before he changed his mind, he stood, holding his hand out to her.

  “Dance with me.”

  She arched her eyebrow. “Something wrong with your beer?”

  “Not a thing.” He continued to proffer his hand, willing her to accept. “Just one song, and then I’ll leave.”

  She smiled and reached for him, but as her fingertips drew near, a spark a
rced into his palm. He jerked back and shook off the sharp tingling sensation assaulting his skin. Fallon stared at her fingers.

  “I hope you aren’t planning to do that every time I touch you.”

  She looked up, a coy grin on her lips. “Every time?”

  An unexpected chuckle rumbled through his chest, and in a fluid move, he grasped Fallon’s hand, gathering her to him. Yes, this was reckless. Yes, his time was limited. And there was so much more he needed to accomplish before the end. But, damn, it felt good to laugh.

  The meandering warble from the speakers wound around them, and Zane swayed to the music. He slid his hands down her sides, reveling in the sumptuous curves, and wrapped his fingers around her tiny waist while his palms rested on her rounded hips. With a shy smile, Fallon draped her arms over his shoulders, one warm hand cupping the nape of his neck.

  Heaven.

  Zane held her, and one country love song blended into the next. She molded against him, and he traced circles in the small of her back. An enticing heat radiated from the woman in his arms, and he basked in the sensation, the last of the protective wall he’d erected dissolving.

  He peered down, her bedroom eyes inciting a rush of adrenaline. Lust coiled low in his gut, and a battle between desire and reality ensued. But when she toyed with the hair on the back of his neck, her fingertips weaving sensual strokes, desire won out. He reached up and tugged the elastic band from her hair, her dark tresses tumbling past her shoulders.

  “Better.” He combed his fingers through the silky strands, the light catching two wide streaks of vivid crimson painted in her hair. “Red?”

  Her eyes flared, and she lifted her chin. “Problem?”

  He grinned at her fiery response. “Nope.”

  She gazed at him, her features softening. “One is for my father, who died in the service during the last overseas skirmish.”

  “Sorry.” He traced a finger over the second streak. “This one for your mom?”

  She shook her head. “No. She’s in Florida with her new husband. My dad died when I was a teen, so I’m glad Mom’s able to find happiness again after all these years.” A saucy grin met her lips. “The other streak is for me.”

  He just bet it was. “You mostly wear your hair up.” He dug his hand into the thick softness, his desire growing. “It suits you.”

  “Glad you like it.”

  “I like you,” he murmured and dipped his head.

  The thrill of at last capturing her mouth, experiencing the sweetness hammered through him. Fallon returned the kiss, parting her lips. His tongue met hers with erotic twists and strokes, and when she moaned, her sound of pleasure reverberated to his core. Fire in his arms, she stole his breath, singed his soul.

  Fallon intensified the kiss, consumed his mouth. Her nails dug into his scalp, and another soft whimper grazed his ear before twining with the love song wafting around them. Grasping her delicious hips, he ground his pelvis against hers, letting her feel his need. When she returned the gesture, he groaned.

  He was lost. So lost. She’d driven him to an edge he hadn’t known existed. God, it took everything he had not to throw her to the floor and possess the beguiling fire that was Fallon.

  A sharp pop cracked the air.

  Zane jerked up, breaking the kiss. Fallon twisted in his arms toward the sound.

  A second light exploded over another booth. Fallon jolted. A third shattered, raining thin shards of glass over the table and floor, and darkening one end of the restaurant.

  “What the hell?” Zane took Fallon’s hand and eased toward the unexpected destruction. “This ever happen before?”

  “No,” she said in a breathy voice.

  He glanced at her. “What do you think caused it?”

  “No idea.” She scanned the booths and floor. “But you can bet I’ll be calling an electrician in the morning.”

  He nodded and, releasing her hand, moved toward the kitchen.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To get a broom. Clean up.”

  She shook her head and smiled. “I’ll get it in the morning. Besides, it’s late, and I’m opening in just a few hours.”

  He’d wanted to take her upstairs, make love, and hold her while she slept. He took her hands, kissing the knuckles on each. “I want to see you again, Fallon.”

  She smiled, her eyes blazing with passion. “I’d like that, too.”

  Forcing himself to unlock and open the door, he turned to her, knowing beyond the threshold he’d be alone again. “I almost forgot. Johnny wanted me to tell you a letter came today. It’s on the desk in the kitchen.”

  “Thanks,” she said and brushed her lips over his. “Thanks for the help. You saved me tonight.”

  He grinned, the truth ringing inside him. “Night.”

  He waited until he heard the deadbolt slam home then headed toward his Jeep sitting sentry beneath a parking lot light, his shoes scuffing over the gravel. His mind lingered on an image of Fallon, his heart warning that he skirted a dangerous territory. But she’d imparted a lightness his life had lacked over the last three weeks. After holding her luscious body in his arms and kissing that hot mouth, the night seemed even darker and more oppressive.

  An odd buzzing noise filled his ears and gave him pause. Cicadas? Pulling his keys from his pocket, he stopped before he reached his Jeep.

  “What the hell?”

  On the hood, hundreds of flies swarmed, their tiny wings beating the air with frenzy. He eased closer, dread causing his heart to pound. The insects shifted, creating a foreboding sign that writhed on the navy paint.

  16

  Icy fear popped through Zane, and he twisted in search of the evil beast that toyed with him. Nothing stirred. He turned back toward the Jeep, his gut clenching, and stared at the undulating number on the car hood. Damn, it was all true. He hadn’t wanted to believe he was really doomed. But shit. This? He stumbled back a step and sucked in a shaky breath. He couldn’t deny it any longer. His fate was sealed.

  No control. He had no control over any of it.

  Anger choked the fear, slamming reality home, and hot fury erupted through him. Zane rushed toward the car, intent on sweeping the flies away. But as his arm skimmed the slick paint, the insects disintegrated into a spray of ashes that drifted off into nothingness.

  “I know,” he growled at the darkness. “Sixteen days. I know.”

  Chapter Five

  Fallon’s fingertips lingered over her lips. That Zane sure packed one heck of a punch with his kisses. She’d been seconds away from inviting him upstairs and hadn’t decided whether to be thankful for the odd occurrence with the light bulbs or to curse it. On second thought, she was thankful. There was more to Zane than a smoking hot body and a sultry kiss. She wanted to learn just how much more there was.

  After hearing his truck start, she moved away from the door and shut the lights off. More often than not, she drove home to the house her mother had left her, but the breakfast crowd would be here in just a few hours, and she had everything she needed in the small apartment above the kitchen. As she was about to head upstairs, the envelope Zane had told her about caught her eye. She snatched the letter off the counter and peeled open the flap while trudging up the long staircase, the comfy queen-size bed calling her name.

  Fallon toed off her boots and sat on the plush comforter, pausing long enough to remove the envelope’s contents and give a quick read through. She unfolded the crisp white sheet. What the hell? Double-checking her name and address at the top, she read the message again, but still didn’t understand. The letter was a notification for a will reading. Some woman named Serida Garrison had died and designated her as a beneficiary. There was even a flight confirmation for that afternoon to Portland, Maine. Pretty presumptuous.

  Reaching over to the bedside table, she dialed Florida.

  “Hello?” her mother’s groggy voice answered after two rings.

  Too late, she realized the early morning hour and cring
ed. “Hi, Mom.”

  “Fallon, what’s wrong?”

  “I’m sorry, Mama. I wasn’t thinking about the time. I can call back in the morning.” The sound of rustling sheets filtered over the phone line.

  “Don’t be silly, honey. Something’s bothering you. Speak up.”

  She could always count on her mom to be there for her—even if she was four states away. “I met someone today.” It wasn’t why she’d originally called, but the words just tumbled out. “He’s an EMT.”

  Her mother chuckled. “Well, he must be pretty special if you’re calling me at two in the morning to tell me about him.”

  Fallon smiled. “He is. At least I think he is. Time will tell, I guess.” She sure hoped he would be. No one had made her feel the way Zane had in a long, long while. She liked it. “Anyway, that’s not really why I called. I got a letter special delivery from the estate of Serida Garrison. Apparently, I’ve been named as a beneficiary in her will. They even bought me a plane ticket to Maine. Do you know her?”

  She sensed her mother’s hesitation.

  “No, I don’t know her. Well, not personally anyway.” Her mother sighed. “Oh, honey, I wish I was with you. She was your birth mother’s twin sister.”

  The words punched her in the gut. Thank the Lord she’d been sitting. “But you said there was no family left of my biological parents.”

  “I know, sweetie, but that was what your aunt wanted. She didn’t want anyone to know about her. Your dad and I met her once. She was devastated by her sister’s death. Heartbroken. Then your biological father was killed in a tragic accident several days later, and Serida didn’t know what to do. She was barely able to handle her grief. When she decided to put you up for adoption, she told us the only way she could do it was a total separation. What your dad and I saw was a defeated shell of a woman. It was so sad.”

  Fallon struggled to grasp what her mother had said. “So, she just decided she wanted nothing to do with her sister’s only child?”

  “Honey, we can’t begin to understand the grief she was going through. She lost her twin and her brother-in-law in a matter of days. All people handle loss differently. I think the whole ordeal broke her. Many people would find peace in family, but she was just so lost.”