Heartfire

by Karen Rose Smith

  She picked up the one on the ground beside her and straightened. "Right here. As quickly as we left, I thought we'd be sure to forget something."

  "You did a good job of packing."

  She laughed. "I'm used to it. Remember?"

  Although Max's flashlight wasn't a flooding beam, she could still see his frown. "I remember."

  Eager to find another subject, she said, "Ryan mentioned some type of festival in town next weekend. I've missed it other years. What goes on?"

  "It's called Oktoberfest. They have craft booths in the park on Saturday. The softball game on Sunday is usually the highlight. It's a community tradition."

  There was that word again—"tradition"—the one she didn't know much about. "The teams are already formed?"

  "Nah. Whoever shows up, plays. You want to play?" He looked intrigued.

  "I was on a team in high school." It was the only time she'd felt equal to the other girls. They'd worn uniforms paid for by the district and none of her team members could run faster or throw harder.

  "We mix men and women, and it's usually a lot of fun." He stepped closer, bringing with him the aroma of wood smoke and pine. "Tessa, I know staying in Jenkins might be hard for you. Anytime you want to leave..."

  "Tired of me already?" she joked, though she didn't feel like joking.

  His lazy smiled surrounded her. "No. But I don't want you to feel tied here, either. Whatever this is with Ryan, I'll figure it out."

  Tessa frowned. "You don't need help or you don't want my help?"

  "Now don't get defensive. I'll take your help. But I want it to be given freely."

  She breathed a sigh of relief. "I told you I'll stay a few weeks. I might have to make an overnight trip or two to New York. But unless something unexpected pops up, that's it."

  He nodded then glanced around the campsite. "I think everything's secure. The van's locked." Turning back to her, he asked, "Do you want me to wake you in the morning?"

  "I'll wake up with the sun if Ryan doesn't get to me first."

  Max chuckled, a deep, masculine sound that made her feel warm, even in the cool air. She saw his hands come toward her and she thought he was going to touch her face. But, instead, he only fastened a button on her jacket that had slipped out. "Keep warm. If you need more blankets, give a yell."

  "I'll be okay. I have my long underwear." She thought she saw sparks light his eyes, but it must have been the flashlight flickering. "Good night, Max."

  He took his hands from her jacket. "Good night, Tessa."

  Switching on her flashlight, she ducked into her tent and quickly zippered the flap before she wanted him to touch more than her jacket.

  Chapter Four

  Ryan's pole bounced in all directions as he cranked the reel, his small muscles working hard, his excitement beaming all over his face. Max fought the urge to move to the other side of the small rowboat to help him. Tessa was already sitting there beside his son, grinning, making no effort to take the rod.

  "Look how big he is! It's almost as big as the one Dad caught." Ryan slowly reeled in the bass, the rod bobbing. Turning to Tessa, his expression showing pride in his accomplishment, he asked, "Can you help me get him off the hook?"

  Tessa didn't flinch like many women would have when she took the flopping fish in her hands. As she did, she said something in a low voice to Ryan that Max couldn't hear.

  Ryan nodded. "Yeah, you're probably right. Dad, we're going to throw him back in."

  "What about supper?" Max asked, unable to suppress a grin.

  Tessa gave the bass back to Ryan and swiped her hands on her jeans. "We have two, already. They should be enough. We brought the instant potatoes, didn't we? And those other packaged rations."

  He was surprised to find Tessa had a practical side, too, especially since her impractical streak had convinced Max to buy a birthday cake for tonight instead of waiting to have it when they got home tomorrow. "Along with the carrot sticks."

  "Are we going to hike this afternoon?" she asked, as she pushed the tackle box aside with her foot.

  "There's a marked trail not too far from our campsite." He'd watched Tessa become almost as fidgety as Ryan the longer they'd sat in the boat. Inactivity obviously drove her crazy.

  "There's an unmarked trail toward the entrance of the park," she suggested.

  Max cast a considering eye at Ryan.

  Catching his look of concern, she assured him, "We can go as far as we want and turn back whenever we'd like. It'll be less trampled, and we'll have a better chance to see some wildlife." She smiled at Ryan. "That would be a special birthday present, don't you think?"

  From Ryan's expression, he wholeheartedly agreed. Max had to admit Tessa was right—the unmarked trail could be a lot more fun. When had his life become so static...so safe? Did Tessa always take the unmarked trail?

  Slowly Max rowed the boat back to the dock, more often than not glancing at Tessa, her smile, the oval of her face framed by sunshine and curls. His gut tightened. All at once a hungry gnawing he almost didn't recognize made him row more vigorously until he did recognize it, and then he rowed even harder. Desire for Tessa was the last thing he wanted to feel.

  At the dock, Max threw the line over the post and pulled until they drifted alongside. With hands that were unsteady from the exertion and a rising need he couldn't understand, he held the boat still.

  Tessa hopped out and helped Ryan onto the dock. They started back to their campsite, pine needles and leaves cushioning their steps as Ryan chattered about the morning.

  Max took a wary look at Tessa and wondered why this attraction had resurfaced now.

  Back at the campsite, she went to the truck for—

  She emerged with her laptop.

  He kept his voice even when he asked, "You're going to work now?"

  After a moment of hesitation she explained, "I'm expecting information about the Oslo Summit."

  "This can't wait until we get back?"

  "I'm doing a preliminary article due in Tuesday. Waiting isn't a word that applies in my business."

  No, waiting didn't apply. Neither did roots or commitment. She hadn't changed. Nothing had changed. Tessa's career still came first. Why should he care?

  He shouldn't and he didn't.

  ***

  Ryan's cry broke Max's deep sleep. Awake, but groggy, he automatically reached toward Ryan in the darkness of the tent and heard Tessa as she pushed at the front flap. "Max, is Ryan okay?"

  "Dad, it's too dark. I can't find you," Ryan cried.

  Max put his arm around his son and awkwardly twisted around to unzip the flap to let Tessa in.

  She rushed though the entrance and knelt beside the trembling now eight-year-old. "What's wrong, pancake?"

  Ryan reached out to her. "I couldn't see Dad. It was so dark." He clutched her shoulders and without hesitating she gathered him into her arms.

  Fumbling for the flashlight, Max switched it on. "Is that better?"

  Ryan nodded, his face nuzzled into Tessa's shoulder.

  "Do you want to hold it?" Tessa asked softly as she rocked him against her.

  He nodded again as he took it from Max.

  The sight of Ryan cuddled in Tessa's arms touched something deep inside Max. His son did miss a woman's nurturing. Ryan had instinctively reached toward Tessa for comfort and curled up in her arms. Max couldn't put the pictures out of his head of Tessa mixing the mashed potatoes while he fried the fish, snitching a carrot stick from Ryan's plate, clapping her hands enthusiastically as Ryan blew out all the candles on his cake. She'd bought him a Super Shooter, the latest trend in giant squirt guns and a book about dinosaurs—a subject he seemed to be interested in for the moment.

  And now she seemed to know how to comfort him in the dark. It made Max feel lacking in some way. Yet realistically he knew he couldn't be everything to his son.

  It wasn't long before Ryan's eyelids fluttered shut and the large flashlight fell out of his hand. Tessa laid it besi
de her but didn't switch it off.

  "I wouldn't have thought of giving him the flashlight to hold," he murmured.

  Her voice was sad. "I know what's it's like to be afraid of the dark. A little control goes a long way."

  "When were you ever afraid?" Max asked, not knowing if Tessa would answer. Fears were as private as prayers.

  She laid her cheek against Ryan's head. "When I went to my first foster home. Before that I'd slept in a room with five other girls. It was never dark there, never completely quiet. With the foster family, I slept in a room in the...basement. It was as black as ink when they turned off the lights."

  Curious, he leaned closer. "They wouldn't leave a light on?"

  Her voice carried a little more than a whisper across his son. "I asked, but they said it would run up the electric bill. In other homes, the couples were…kinder. But as I got older, they had motivation to be kind."

  The darkness and the silence closed around them. "What do you mean?"

  "One of the homes had two other children. Taking me in brought in money and gave them a free maid."

  "You're kidding. How old were the children?"

  "Three and five. I liked taking care of the kids. It was the housework I didn't like. I guess no one really does."

  "That's why I still have Mrs. Clark come in and clean." Suddenly more curious about Tessa than he'd ever been, Max asked, "How long did you stay with that family?"

  She hesitated a few moments, as if she’d already revealed too much, then answered, "Two years. They moved out of state so the husband could take a better job. They were one of my better experiences."

  "How many others were there?"

  "Three. I grew a chip on my shoulder. No one wanted a smart-mouthed teenager. I can't blame them."

  Max suddenly wanted to hold Tessa the same way she was holding Ryan. But he sensed if he even leaned too close, she'd move away. Confessions at night in the dark always seemed more intimate than disclosure in the light of day.

  For a long time they sat in the silence, listening to his son's rhythmic breathing, Max watching Tessa, Tessa watching Ryan. Then Max must have dozed off. When he awoke, he could see light through the tent. Tessa was curled against Ryan's air mattress, the sleeping bag pulled over them both. She looked adorable with her cheeks pink, her hair mussed. Her lashes were long and thick, the dark sweep of them making her skin look creamier.

  "Tessa?" he whispered.

  "Mm?"

  "Do you want to crawl into my sleeping bag?"

  Her eyes flew open.

  Max disentangled Ryan from her arms, moving his son to free Tessa. "I'm going to get a fire going and make a pot of coffee, but if you'd like to sleep longer..."

  She rolled away from him, coming to a sitting position. It seemed like a reflex maneuver to wake up quickly. "No. No. I'm awake. I'll be out in a minute." She shook her head almost like a puppy would and ran her fingers through her tight curls, disarraying them more.

  Ignoring the desire to ruffle them himself, Max pulled the sleeping bag up to Ryan’s shoulders.

  Though the tent was large enough for two, Tessa seemed awfully close, even with Ryan between them. The atmosphere in the tent spoke of a closeness that made his heart pump hard. Did she feel it, too?

  He sat back on his heels. "Take your time getting awake. The sun hasn't been up long and the coffee will take a while to perk." His gaze met hers for an unsettling moment before he left the tent.

  ***

  Tessa took a deep breath and blew it out. She didn’t need time to get awake. She needed time to recover from being cooped up in a close space with Max. She’d been so aware that his beard stubble had become heavy and dark, that his hair had been sleep rumpled. She’d answered his questions all too easily last night. She didn't know why she couldn't seem to keep up her guard around Max anymore. Maybe she had tried for too long.

  Stopping at her tent for her soap, towel, toothbrush and change of clothes, she headed for the rest rooms and showers. It took her about twenty minutes to feel like a new woman, ready to face Max and her complicated feelings toward him.

  At least she'd thought she was ready until she saw him sitting in a chair by the morning fire, staring pensively into the flames.

  He watched her drop her towel and toothbrush in her tent before she approached him. "I didn't want to leave the camp with Ryan asleep." He rubbed his hand across his jaw. "I should think about growing a beard for winter. It would save time getting ready in the mornings if I didn't have to shave."

  Before she caught herself, she said, "You wouldn't want to hide that chin."

  "I wouldn't?" he asked with a grin.

  She covered her tracks. "Nope. How else would I know when you're going to be stubborn?"

  "My chin tells you that?"

  "Sure does." She pointed to the left side. "You have a muscle there that sort of jumps."

  He laughed, and she smiled back, thinking this was a nice way to start the day. The earthy smell of damp leaves and heavy pine, sharing smiles and laughter with someone she— Tessa cut off the thought.

  Max pointed to the grate over the low fire. "Coffee's almost done."

  She rolled her shoulders and moved her head from side to side. "Good."

  "Problem with your neck?"

  "I think it was the way I slept."

  "How long did you sit up holding Ryan?"

  She shrugged. "I don't know." She hadn't only been holding Ryan, but she'd watched Max sleep, too.

  He pulled the low, folding stool that Ryan had used to toast marshmallows closer with his foot and pointed to it. "Sit and I'll massage your shoulders for you. It might help."

  "The cramps will work out. The hot shower helped—"

  "Good. Then the muscles will relax even more if I massage them."

  Still hesitating, she wondered why. What was the big deal? She was wearing a shirt and jacket. He was only going to knead her shoulders.

  With a small smile, she sat with her back to him between his legs to provide easier access. As he moved forward in his lawn chair, his jeans brushed her sleeve when she moved her arm. The cuffs of his flannel jacket teased her still-damp hair. When he leaned closer to apply more pressure, she could smell earth and man.

  Max's hands were large, his fingers long. He went straight for the knots as if he knew exactly where they were. And she'd been wrong about the massage. It was a very big deal. Her shirt and jacket didn't even seem to exist. His kneading was soothing. He went deeper and deeper, touching more than her muscles. His caring touch went straight from his hands to her heart and his sensual stroking made her body come alive.

  She didn't want him to stop, but she knew he soon would. The pressure eased, his thumbs made smaller circles, and he leaned away. She closed her eyes for a moment to steady herself, then stood on legs that felt wobbly.

  "Thank you," she said politely. "That helped."

  He stood, too. "I'm glad. I'm also grateful you were here for Ryan last night."

  "I'm glad I could be."

  They were standing so close. The air between them seemed to lose its morning dampness and became warm and compelling. She could see deep into Max's eyes and wasn't sure what emotions she saw there. Maybe need, and desire... He bent his head, and her eyelids fluttered closed.

  His lips found hers, and she was young again. The desire was there as well as the wanting that in the past she'd told herself didn't matter. She reached for Max and felt his arms wrap around her. And just as she felt as if her heart would leap from her chest and her limbs would never stop shaking, he dropped his arms and left her standing alone.

  She opened her eyes, feeling as if her life had drastically changed in a matter of seconds. Max didn't appear to be affected at all. Except...was his breathing as fast and as shallow as hers?

  His voice was gruff when he spoke. "The coffee should be perked by now. I'll get the mugs."

  As he went to the table, Tessa didn't know what to think...or feel. She watched him pour the coffe
e, glad he was doing it instead of her. Because her hands still trembled along with the rest of her. She had to keep her distance from Max, that's all there was to it.

  Chapter Five

  The following Friday evening, Max poured a jar of seasoned sauce into a bowl and put it in the microwave while Tessa stirred the pot of spaghetti. They hadn't talked much all week. They also hadn't looked at each other directly. Maybe they were both afraid something would happen they didn't want to happen. Like another kiss. He didn't know what had come over him. Gratitude, maybe, because the weekend had gone so well. Never mind the surge of desire that had pulsed in his veins when he'd held Tessa in his arms. That had simply been a throwback from the past.

  He was looking forward to this weekend, to the fair in the park and the softball games, being out in the air and sun instead of cooped up in the house with Tessa, all too aware of her presence.

  When the doorbell rang, it startled him. Answering the back door, he found two of his students on the porch.

  The tall, red-headed boy with freckles grinned. "Hey, Coach. Jenny and I are here to talk about the dance. You got the time?"

  Jenny, a pretty blonde with a shy smile, said, "I told Kevin we should call first. If this isn't a good time, we can come back later."

  Max hesitated. The kids should have had the dance planned down to the last detail before now. They'd e-mailed him with a few ideas but hadn't solidified anything. He didn't know how Tessa would feel about this interruption.

  He glanced over at her. "We're just about to eat supper."

  Tessa pulled a loaf of garlic bread from the oven and tossed over her shoulder, "There's plenty, Max, if you want to invite them in. You can talk while we eat."

  Stepping back, he motioned the kids inside. After introducing them to Tessa, he asked them, "Would you like to join us for supper?"

  Kevin grinned. "Sure."

  Jenny jabbed him. "You just had a Big Mac!"

  "What can I say? I'm a growing boy."

  Jenny shook her head as if she was exasperated with him often.

  Tessa laughed and took two more glasses from the cabinet. "What dance are you planning?"