Wildfire (13 page)

“Hell, yeah,” Lynn answered, glad that her face, already red
from exertion, wouldn’t betray her embarrassment.

Jack grinned as he lowered the tailgate of his pickup and
climbed on. He tossed Lynn a thick blanket and asked her to pick a picnic spot.

She spread the blanket under a shady oak near the water, and
Jack plopped himself and the cooler down on it.

“Ahh, ice cold drinks,” Lynn sighed, grabbing a Diet Coke.
Jack took a Sprite. He wrapped his bandana around some ice and used it as an
ice-pack to his brow and neck. She pressed the cold, wet can against her hot
forehead and cheeks, before grabbing a foil wrapped sandwich.

Crusty French bread peeked out at her as she unwrapped the
top. She pulled the rest of the foil away and bit into the sandwich without
waiting for Jack. The zing of spicy mayo burst over her tongue. It was quickly
followed by the savory flavor of roast chicken layered with creamy avocado and
peppery arugula. Shredded carrots added just the right amount of sweetness.

“Mmm,” she said. “This is goooood.”

Jack responded with a gallant bow. “Me and the local grocery
store at your service.”

He’d made a meal for her. No guy had ever done that. Did he
have to be so nice?

After devouring the sandwich, Lynn looked around. A gentle
breeze fingered her hair as she watched a white crane fishing in the shallows.
A perfect moment of peace. It’d be a shame to spoil it, maybe she could pause
her investigation for a bit. Enjoy the sunlight, nature and the company. “This
is a beautiful place.”

“Yeah, that’s actually why I packed lunch,” said Jack,
slicing up an apple with his pocket knife. “I loved picnicking here as a kid.”
He offered her apples and chunks of Cheddar cheese.

“So what was it like growing up out here?” Lynn asked
nibbling the fruit.

“Great,” Jack said. “I ran around barefoot and shirtless all
over the ranch. So for the first six years of my life, I was this spindly, brown
kid with hair bleached blond by the sun.”

“Blond?” Lynn asked. “But your hair is dark brown now.”

“Things changed,” Jack said. “Hair became darker and I had
to start wearing shoes as I grew older and started working with the
horses.”

“You grew up on the ranch?”

“Essentially,” he said. “Besides working on the ranch, I
also enjoyed the countryside. There’s a clear water pool in the area, with
large trees on the edge. It’s great for swinging into. I spent a lot of hours
fishing, invading planets and catching frogs.”

“Sounds like an ideal childhood,” Lynn said.

His lips pressed together into a thin line. “It was what it
was.”

They munched in silence for a while.

“Would you go back to it if you could?” she asked.

Jack shook his head. “Nah. I’d rather see what lies ahead,”
he said. “Besides, we have a saying: ‘It’s never the same river.’ Things keep
changing.”

Lynn turned towards the green waters of the Concho. A piece
of driftwood floated by. A snapping turtle emerged from the waters and
laboriously clambered over some rocks jutting out of the river. The turtle lay
there, sunning itself without a care in the world as a couple of dragon flies
hovered around it. She wished she could be the turtle.

“So, what was your childhood like growing up in a
Japanese-American household?” Jack asked.

Lynn flushed. “I’m impressed you picked up on my Japanese
background. Most people think I’m from the Philippines or Mexico.”

Jack smiled and shrugged. “Actually, I asked Jen.”

Her breath caught in her throat. What else had Jen told him?
Maybe he already knew about her suspicions. No, didn’t feel like it. They
wouldn’t be this comfortable with each other. He wouldn’t keep glancing at her
or smiling at her in that melting way. Damn, she’d miss Jack’s flirting when
she left. Lynn managed a laugh. “I like your modesty too. Most guys would just
take credit for guessing right.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not like most guys,” he said. “And I don’t
take undeserved credit.”

Their eyes met and held. Lynn found herself dog-paddling in
a fathomless ocean of green. Time slid into a slow waltz. Warmth unfurled deep
inside. She broke eye contact and stuffed her hands in her pockets. Why did life
have to be so complicated?

“So, are you going to tell me about that childhood or would
you rather we discussed something else?”

“I didn’t have much of a Japanese upbringing,” she said. “My
grandparents were sent to an internment camp, as part of the forced relocation
of Japanese Americans.”

Jack turned his head and looked at her. “Pearl Harbor.”

The sweep of his gentle gaze, warm with sympathy, almost
stole her breath. Where the touch of his fingers sent electricity sizzling
through her, this was quieter, deeper. More dangerous. Like a real hug that
promised safe harbor and unconditional acceptance, an embrace you never wanted
to escape.
Lynn nodded. “My mother was six
years old,” she continued. “But their lives became a nightmare even before the
camp.”

She’d replayed the story many times in her head, imagining
the different players. Imagining herself in their shoes. Her voice shook as she
finally told another person about her grandparents living in fear as they
waited for their summons while stories of Japanese Americans being arrested,
questioned and sent to camps were whispered all around them. The houses being
searched for subversive materials, which generally meant anything Japanese, the
ominous knocks on the doors.

Jack covered her hand with his, creating a warm cocoon. She
should break contact, but she left it in his. How could something so wrong,
feel so right?

Then Jack said, “My mother came from a German background and
spoke the language exclusively until eight years of age.” He paused and plucked
a wild dandelion, twirled the stalk between his fingers. “My grandparents
stopped speaking German during the war. By the time I arrived, no one in the
family remembered much of it.”

“War can make people react in so many different ways.”

Her grandfather had been angry and wanted to return to Japan
when they were released from the camp, but he knew they’d be treated as shameful
pariahs there as well.

“My grandmother tried to teach people about the Japanese,
cut through their fear by creating a fusion of Japanese and American
experiences.” She laughed. “Ever had tuna casseroles with a side of seaweed
salad and wasabi? It’s pretty good.”

But her grandmother never lost control, never lashed out as
a dragon. No matter how hurt, how scared. Oh
Obaa-chan
.

“You’ll have to make it for me.” His tone held meaning, a
quiet hope.

Their gazes tangled again for the length of a heartbeat.

“Someday.”
I hope.
She glanced away from him. “My
mother reacted by becoming as American as possible— demanding ketchup instead
of soy sauce, gyrating to Elvis rather than learning the tea ceremony.” She
sighed. “Not all of it can be blamed on Americanization, my mother never really
got along with her mother.”

“Sometimes parents and children don’t fit together, can’t
relate, despite belonging to the same family.” He looked away at the river.

Lynn couldn’t believe she was telling Jack all this. She
hadn’t talked about her grandparents experience even to Jen, and definitely
never to Rob. Strange. She’d met Jack just a few days ago and he came from a
totally different world, but Lynn could talk to him. She trusted him. It didn’t
add up, didn’t make logical sense, but she trusted him.

“My grandmother taught me all she knew, like how to create
bonsai and some of the traditional dishes, and
she
told me Japanese folk stories.” Revealed family secrets, taught me everything I
know about life. “She died too soon.”

Jack gave her hand a gentle squeeze and Lynn found the
strength to continue.

“I took language classes in college and found out all I
could about the Japanese culture. I toyed with the idea of going to live and
work in Japan in search of my roots, but then I realized that I’d always be an
American there because, well, I am American.”

“I know what you mean,” Jack nodded. “I took German classes
in college too, hoping to rediscover a piece of my heritage,” he said. “Though
I have German and Irish in me, when I think of myself I’m a Texan, pure and
simple.”

Lynn smiled. Maybe she and Jack weren’t that different after
all. Again their gazes collided, held, melted into one another. His thumb drew
circles on the inside of her wrist. Silent quakes of desire burst through her.

“Hey, how about climbing up to the peak?” His question came
out in a hoarse croak. “The view’s spectacular.”

She needed to put distance between them. Before desires —crazy,
insane desires—overtook her reason. “Last one up is a rotten egg,” Lynn yelled,
racing ahead. She embraced the touch of the wind on her skin, her hair, the
pure physicality of the action.

Jack laughed as he streaked past her. Almost to the top, he
twisted toward her, grinning like a fool, and held out his hand.

Lynn stared into his eyes, took a deep breath, and put her
hand in his.

Once on top, they stood panting, surrounded by sky.

Paradise Valley stretched below, the Concho River glistened
like a sequined scarf over its gentle green and brown slopes. Lynn shivered
next to Jack.

Thinking she was cold, he wrapped his arms around her
shoulders. Her soft, apple scent teased him, drew him closer. She leaned into
him. He closed his eyes and bit back a gasp. They stood like that for a long
time watching birds sweep across the perfect blue sky.

Jack wanted the moment to last forever. The wind played with
tendrils of hair that had come loose from Lynn’s ponytail. He glanced down and
saw the beautiful curve of her cheekbones glowing in the molten sunlight. The
need to taste her skin, nibble and kiss his way down to her neck and shoulders
overwhelmed him. Could he stop at that? He forced his eyes away from temptation
and
caught the brilliant colors of a rainbow
to the right. Cicadas serenaded them. Nature seemed to be outdoing herself to
create the perfect setting. Kiss the girl.

Fine, I get it.
His head sank toward Lynn’s
half-smiling mouth.

Her face turned towards him. The smile disappeared and her
dark eyes swirled with emotions. The desire he saw in them made his own flare.
Her ragged breathing, or maybe his, filled the silence. Jack kept his gaze
locked onto hers as he moved closer. His heart rode hard inside his chest. He
stopped inches from her lips, letting their breaths mingle, giving her a last
chance to decide if she wanted this, wanted him. When she didn’t move, he
closed his eyes and let himself fall.

She shifted in his arms.

Jack’s eyes flew open as his lips pressed against a cool,
soft palm. Lynn stood, eyes closed, the back of her right hand pressed against
her mouth. How could such a soft, delicate hand be such a formidable wall?

Disappointment stung over and over, like an angry wasp. He
sighed and pulled his emotions under control. She trembled against him. He
moved his mouth to her ear. “Rainbow at three o’clock.”

She looked at him. Her eyes glittered with emotion. “Jack,
I’m sorry, but—“

He pressed his fingers to her lips. Pillow soft lips.
“Nothing to be sorry about,” he said. “And you really are missing a great
rainbow.” He turned her to face outwards.

He stared at the rainbow without really seeing it. Lynn
filled his mind. He could be clueless at times, but not this time. She’d wanted
the kiss as much as he did. He’d seen his hunger reflected in her eyes. What
had gone wrong? Why had she stopped him?

Chapter
12

Having his strong arms around her had made her feel safe,
feminine. It’d been nice to not think of herself as a dragon, a protector of
the weak and innocent, but just as a woman. Did he have to smell so good? The
scent of clean sweat and evergreens, warmed through with a hint of musk,
intoxicated her. A jumble of emotions —that she didn’t feel brave enough to
untangle— roiled through her. On top of that, silence squatted between them
like an invisible troll. She hadn’t meant for things to go that far.

Lynn peeked at Jack. He looked lost in thought, his face a
blank page with shadows. Her gaze fixed on his full lips. With each breath she
drank in another intoxicating whiff of his rich, warm male scent. Desire
swirled in the pit of her stomach. What would his kiss have tasted like? Would
it have been gentle and playful or raw with hunger and need?

The truck slowed and stopped. Lynn dragged her gaze to peer
outside. The early evening sun painted a pretty picture around a two-story
building, constructed of native stones and adorned with the standard façade of
a past era.

Despite the peeling paint, boarded up windows and graffiti
on the walls, the structure still displayed graceful federal pillars, an arched
pediment over the main entrance and beautiful moldings. A flat-roofed gallery
with a saw-tooth edged awning —now tattered and dusty—  wrapped around the
building.

“Wow, that must have been really beautiful,” Lynn said,
eyeing the swirly leaves decorating the concrete cornice. “But what’s it doing
in the middle of nowhere?”

“That’s the Range Hotel, one of the fanciest in all of West
Texas at one time,” Jack said. “From the early 1900s until 1970 this area was
considered a health center because of its dry climate and remoteness. The
government built the State Tuberculosis Sanatorium here, and hotels and motels
sprang up between what was known as Sanatorium, Texas and San Angelo to cater
to the families and friends of the patients.”

Lynn took in the copper gutters glowing in the sunset. “What
happened?”

Jack shrugged. “New medical advances and drugs almost wiped
out TB in the United States. The state hospital was converted to the San Angelo
State School to serve mentally handicapped men and women,” he said. “Over the
years, the Range changed hands and ran down. Now it’s a transients’ hangout.”

Her gaze moved over several bedraggled and grimy homeless
men loitering on the steps. Their stooped and worn bodies crumpled together.
Some looked away, others stared back with vacant
eyes. A tingle of fear crept into her mind. Was the man stalking her around
town among them?

Lynn shook her head. “It’s sad to see it falling apart like
this.” She searched the faces. “But, at least it’s still providing shelter to some.”

“Yeah.” Jack started the pickup.

Lynn kept her eyes on the huddle of men as they drove away.
A familiar figure in a tattered coat emerged from among the pillars and planted
himself on the road. Lynn’s spine went rigid as her gaze met his. The man raised
a shaky hand and spread two fingers into a V. He pointed at his eyes, and then
aimed them at her.
I’m watching you
. A breath hissed out of her.

“You okay?” Jack glanced at her.

“Just a leg cramp,” she answered massaging her right calf.
Lynn glanced back and smiled. She did have another suspect.

Cannon bounded to the door to greet Jack, welcoming him home
with loud woofs and sloppy licks.

“Why can’t girls be more like you?” Jack said, burying his
face into the dog’s hairy neck. “Uncomplicated and enthusiastic.”

Cannon turned his head and gave him a sympathetic look. Jack
grinned and scratched behind the dog’s ears. Hot breath puffed into his face
and he pulled away. “Phew! Dog breath. Okay, I’m glad she’s nothing like you.”

Jack threw himself on the couch, his mind churning. He
replayed different parts of the day over and over again. He’d definitely
enjoyed himself. He thought Lynn had too. They’d laughed a lot. That was a good
sign, right? He raked fingers through his hair. And they’d talked about all
kinds of things. Strange, despite coming from very different places, both their
families had much in common. Lynn had looked so strong, yet vulnerable,
speaking about her grandmother. He’d wanted to hold her tight. Okay, truth be
told, he’d wanted a hell of a lot more.

Jack leaped up and paced the room. But he’d settled for
holding hands. Much less forward. Anyhow, she hadn’t pulled away. Yeah, if
you’d asked him things had been going damn great. He stopped and frowned. “So
why didn’t the kiss happen?”

He shook his head and stalked to the library. He ran his
fingers along the spines of some books. His father had shelved them
alphabetically. He started pulling books out, and piling them according to
subject matter. Time for a little change around here.

Maybe she wasn’t interested
.
Her face, flushed with
desire, filled his mind. A jolt of answering need speared through Jack. He
stopped and leaned against the bookshelf. Oh yeah, no denying the attraction.
He gulped and strode to another section of the library. Pulled more books out.

Okay, he wanted her, she wanted him and both happened to be
consenting adults. So what was the problem? He ran a hand over his face and
sneezed. Damn, he needed to dust this place. Maybe she didn’t want a short and
sweet fling, but a relationship. Lynn seemed like a nice girl, the kind who’d
want a meaningful relationship, the kind that deserved romance.

He sank to the floor and sat Indian style among the
precarious towers of books. Yeah, that must be it. She wanted a relationship.
Jack propped up his face with his hand. Nothing wrong with nice women having
fun, not everything had to be serious. He considered himself a nice guy and
he’d never had a long-term relationship. Somehow, all the females he’d dated
had been passing through his life on their way somewhere else. And what was
wrong with that? Both parties had fun. Nobody got hurt and people continued
with their life.

Images of his sister Annie and her husband Glenn, working
together on the ranch, rocking on their porch swing, and laughing, popped into
his mind. Jack shook off the loneliness that gripped him. Yeah, some people had
happily-ever-afters, some had romantic interludes, and then others got stuck in
unhappy marriages, like his mother and grandmother. He sighed.

He pulled out Annie’s wedding album and flipped through it.
She’d been so happy and beautiful that day, glowing and beaming at everybody,
including her annoying little brother. He stopped at a picture of her and him
dancing together. Then Jack moved onto a picture of her and Glenn’s first
official kiss. Thank God, Annie had found love and happiness. He pictured
himself and Lynn in the same place. Did he dare hope for Happily-Ever-After?
Would she have him despite his being a Callaghan? Could she love him? Could he
love her the way she deserved?

A relationship. Did he want a relationship with Lynn?

His breath caught and an odd stillness welled up inside. The
sound of his heartbeat amplified and echoed in his head, silencing all thought.

Yes.

Shaking, Jack stood and stumbled away from the books. He
flopped into the chair at his desk and took a few deep breaths. A relationship.
Talk about new frontiers. He switched on the computer and pulled up the
internet.

He didn’t know if he was relationship material or not, but
he planned to give it a hell of a shot. He typed her name, grinning like an
idiot as his heart did a drum roll. Googling her. What next? Passing her notes?

Jack skimmed the first thirty references. A fairly recent
engagement announcement in the
Houston Chronicle
caught his eye and he
clicked on it. After an unbearable wait, a black and white photograph formed. A
smiling Lynn and a Robert Uriah Neff III stared back at him.

“Fuck.” He shoved away from the desk.

“Stupid bitch!” The dragon master hurled the empty beer
bottle at the wall. Shattering glass brought him a few moments of calm. How
dare Lynn like someone else?

Didn’t she realize what he could offer her? Maybe she wasn’t
good enough for him. Any woman with taste and standards would choose him— the
artist, the man who controlled the dragon. He let out deep, jagged breaths,
hating himself for feeling like the ten-year-old whose best friend just dumped
him to hang out with the cooler kids. He could have any woman he wanted.

With shaking hands, he lit another cigarette and took deep,
desperate pulls. The aroma, the taste, the heat of the fire filled his breath,
enveloped his body. The smoke caressed him with soothing touches. He grasped at
the comfort offered by the dragon. He sighed and leaned back in his chair. Damn
it, he wanted Lynn.

Her face, her body, filled his mind. His heart slammed
against his ribs. How could a woman with fire in her spirit choose anyone but
him? Every time their eyes met, her nature called to his. He shook his head to
clear his thoughts, wishing he could ignore her siren call. Oh for silence,
blessed silence.

The thought of being without Lynn left him cold. He took
another drag of the cigarette, inhaled the dragon spirit deep within himself.
Last night he’d dreamt of the dragon again. All gleaming black, breathing an
inferno.

But this time, there’d been another. A jewel-toned
blue-green female. They’d circled the autumn moon, great wings flapping,
singing the fire song. Then— he licked his lips— then, they’d mated.

Want shivered through him as he recalled the vision of the
two great dragons writhing and wrestling among the clouds. Their raw passion
stirred up a storm, until winds chased clouds from the sky, lightning crackled
and thunder boomed. He groaned as his own lust burned bright at the memory and
his jeans tightened uncomfortably. Fingers strayed to his erection.

He must have Lynn. The dragon meant it to be so. What else
could the dream mean?

Lynn
. He’d sensed fear in her. A hesitation. He
smiled into the dark and crushed the cigarette at the edge of the growing pile
of butts on the table. Of course, he was the dragon master. Perhaps she was
awed. Perhaps she couldn’t imagine he’d want her.

He laughed as the solution came to him. She was a woman, his
woman, and he’d have to woo her.

All he needed was a little bit of time. Then she’d see the
truth and choose him.

Pushing out of the chair, he stumbled across to the cooler
to get himself another beer. He twisted the cap off and took a swig. Cold,
bitter liquid tumbled down his throat, relieving some of the disappointment
that his mate wasn’t as perfect as he’d thought. She’d see her error.
Otherwise, she’d pay. She and her friend would burn.

If he couldn’t have her, no one could.

But the drink didn’t quench the dragon inside. The need for
a fire gnawed at him. Yes, he could wait for Lynn, but something had to burn
soon. Very soon.

The dragon’s roar ricocheted in his head.