Wildfire (16 page)

“So, open it!” Abby leaned over the counter, her eyes
shining.

Lynn pinched one end of the envelope and tore a section
open. Spasm after spasm rocked her nervous system. True warning or haywire
dragon? She opened her mouth and gulped in air, then grabbed the vase. “I’ll
just take them to my desk.”

Abby’s smile dimmed. “Well. Enjoy your secret!”

Clutching the vase to her chest, Lynn tried to hold back the
nausea stirred up by the roses and dashed into the newsroom.

A wolf-whistle stopped her. Hernandez leaned in his doorway,
grinning. “Somebody must like you!”

“I guess.”

“So who is it then?”

Lynn’s gaze darted like a trapped fly. “I don’t know.”

“Hmm, a secret admirer.” He rubbed his hands together. “I
like mysteries.”

She’d been afraid of that. “Got to go, lot’s to do.” Lynn
trotted past him.

“Are you going to the Paradise Valley Picnic and fundraiser
Wednesday?”

“Yes, I’ll write up a story for you,” Lynn answered without
stopping.

“Good,” Hernandez called after her. “Maybe your admirer will
reveal himself there.”

“That’ll be news.” She dumped the vase on her desk and
slammed into her chair. With shaking fingers, she tore open the envelope and
pulled out the card.

An ink sketch of a dragon adorned the heavy cardstock. No
signature.

Chapter
16

The Jarvis family took turns hugging her, and she hugged
them back— glad to see them happy again. Being politicians in an election year,
the county commissioners made sure to shake her hand. She waved at Timmy as he
raced by.

She wove through the crowd, stopping and chatting with
several of the firefighters, except the one she wanted to see. Where the hell
was Jack?

Lynn spotted a familiar face. The statuesque blonde from the
newspaper photograph. The one who’d been draping herself all over Jack. She
seemed to be in an intense conversation with someone, leaning close to a man,
who for the most part stood hidden behind a life-size cardboard cut-out of Ward
giving everyone a thumbs up. Did he have to put the damn sign there? Lynn
zigzagged toward them, trying to get a better look at the woman’s companion.
Was she with Jack? Had to be. She’d recognize his relaxed stance anywhere.

Anxiety gnawed at her. Lynn didn’t want to interrupt, but
she wanted to ask him about his late night trip and the Range Hotel fire and
clear the air between them. As soon as the conversation ended, she’d pounce on
Mr. Callaghan.

She positioned herself behind the sign and hovered over the
table of desserts. Bits and pieces of the conversation floated to her.

“The Range was a dump. It needed to be razed,” he said. “I
don’t know why everyone is so worked up about it?”

Shock rippled through Lynn.
A man had died.

“It’s a historical building, something that can be a tourist
attraction and an asset,” the woman’s tone cut like a rapier. “In other words,
it’s worth money. A lot of money. I assume you can grasp that.”

Fire was, no pun intended, the hot topic around the area
lately. But Jack had told her he loved history. She inched forward.

“Why are you lurking there?” The cool, cultured voice poked
at her.

Lynn flushed as she stepped out and joined the couple.
Swallowing, she turned to the man. Henry. Not Jack. The knot in her shoulders
eased.

The developer’s representative had exchanged his suit for
crisp blue jeans, a white shirt, black cowboy boots and a black Stetson.
Jack-style attire, except for sunshades perched on the hat. The statement she’d
heard earlier didn’t seem as surprising now. But, wow, the two sounded alike.

“Well, what do you have to say for yourself?” The woman
stood with her hands on her hips.

Lynn took a deep breath and counted to ten. “I’m just
waiting for you both to finish talking.” Then sticking out her hand, she added,
“I’m Lynn Alexander, with the
San Angelo Herald.
”

The woman’s gaze remained glacial even as her lips curved
upward. “I am Kate Harrington,” she said, shaking hands. “So you’re the one I
should thank for the Jarvises continuing to be my neighbors.”

The man pushed his right hand forward. “Hi, I’m Henry Chase,
with Hope Builders.”

Lynn shook his hand and improvised. “I know who you are. I
was waiting for my chance to speak to you.”

Kate excused herself and sauntered away after a speculative
look at them. Lynn, for her part, pretended not to notice and turned her full
attention on Henry.

“Sorry, I’ve been meaning to return your calls.” He smiled
as he gave her the slow once over. “So what can I help you with?”

“You have some exciting plans for Paradise Valley I’d love
to interview you about.” She batted her eyes. “When can we get together?”

Henry’s eyes widened. “Oh, so you’ve heard about the
development. How did you manage that?” His gray gaze zeroed in on her.

She tried to imagine herself as Hernandez and shrugged. “I
have my sources and you just confirmed them.”

“We aren’t ready to have a news story about it yet.”

“You’re confusing news with advertising.”

Henry shook his head. “I guess I do owe you for rescuing me
from that conversation.” He glanced at the crowd. “Some of the people here
don’t like what my employers want to do, so they take it out on me.”

Lynn glanced away. While she felt bad for the guy, she also
happened to agree with Ms. Harrington. The old building had been beautiful and
an asset, and not just for the economic value. And it had nothing to do with
the guy’s employers. Should she change the topic? She met his gaze. “She did
have a point.”

He grinned at her. “I know,” he said. “I don’t know why I
sometimes just argue for the sake of argument.”

Lynn laughed. “They expect the worst, so you fulfill their
expectations?”

“It’s fun watching people get all worked up… sometimes.”
Henry stepped closer. “Where are you from?”

Lynn grimaced as she realized that she still stuck out like
a sore thumb in Paradise Valley. “Houston.”

“Yeah? Me too.” The strains of a fiddle sailed through the
air. A band called The Howlin’ Hound Dogs played on the stage. “Want to dance?”

He dragged Lynn to the dance floor despite her protests of
not knowing how to two-step. “Come on, we have to represent Houston,” he said.
“It’ll be fun.”

However, Lynn kept tripping up because she was laughing so hard
at the outrageous comments Henry kept making. For a moment, a whiff of dragon
musk tweaked her nose, then it disappeared, replaced by her partner’s spicy
aftershave and the mouth-watering smell of barbecue in the air. They discussed
the life-draining long Houston commutes and compared notes on the meat-market
aspect of the club-scene, including the cheesiest pick-up lines they’d ever
heard. Toward the end of the song, Henry whispered his version of the lyrics
into her ears: “
Mah dawg died and I got the shingles, the missus she left me
and she took the pork rinds and Pringles.
”

Her laughter, he said, was like the night song of cicadas.
Insistent and continuous, and something that’d keep him awake all night.

The music ended and before Lynn had the chance to catch her
breath, Jack came and stood next to them. She looked into his eyes. They were wintery
green and unreadable. He glanced at her partner. “Mind if I cut in?”

Henry’s grip tightened on Lynn’s waist. His gaze locked with
Jack’s.

In return, Jack squared his shoulders and took a step forward,
almost between her and Henry. His hands curled into fists.

Hot, dry desert heat rose in waves around them as if October
had suddenly switched to deep summer. Lynn struggled to breathe and think in
the stifling air heavy with the strong, musky scent of male dragon. Her muscles
tensed, pulsing to change. Scales calcified one by one on her abdomen. What on
earth?

A little girl squealed as she rushed by, pigtails flying.
Timmy bumped into Lynn, then ran around her, waving a stick with a wooly
caterpillar perched on it. The world shuddered and moved again. Lynn sucked in
a lungful of cool, refreshing air.

Henry smiled, or rather bared his teeth, and released her.
“Be my guest, as long as you return her.”

Jack responded with a steely stare.

Her heart twirled as she found herself caught up in Jack’s
arms and settled against his muscular chest. The minute they touched, her
insides turned liquid. “I really don’t know how to two-step,” she said.

Had Jack called the heat and the pheromones? Was he the
dragon? She took a deep whiff. He smelled of mesquite smoke, musky and warm,
from working the grills. His scent enfolded her, worked its way under her skin.

Jack showed her the basic steps. “Just relax and follow my
movements.” The music started up again. The band was playing an old favorite, “
Silver
Wings.
” Henry stood at the edge of the crowd, watching them, his face
expressionless.

“You look beautiful darlin’.” Jack’s whisper tickled her
ear, shot a shiver down her spine. His tone echoed admiration, and maybe a
tinge of regret. Why? Her insides churned with mixed emotions.

Soon she was only aware of Jack. Lynn discovered her head
came up to Jack’s collar bone and fit neatly under his chin when he leaned
forward a bit. She snuggled in and relaxed. What would it be like to do the
deed with a male dragon? She shivered and he tightened his hold.

They moved effortlessly around the makeshift dance floor.
Two people fused into one. Lynn couldn’t think of anything save his hand at her
waist, the touch of his body against hers, his warm breath playing on her hair.

She noticed Brenda and Tom dancing by. Brenda had her head
on his shoulder, and Tom leaned down over her. Brenda’s hair was held in a
ponytail by a yellow ribbon, its fluttering end whipping around Tom’s nose from
time to time. They seemed to be in their own world.

Lynn sighed. This felt so right. She settled in and enjoyed
the sway of their movement, and Jack’s possessive grasp on her. She closed her
eyes and imagined they were a couple. She became just a woman, a much desired
woman caught in the embrace of her handsome admirer.

Before she knew it, the music ended and they pulled apart.
Why was he so quiet? So cool and distant? Was he still angry at her? His winter
gaze burned into hers and they stood inches apart even as a new tune started
up. Sweat beaded through her pores and pooled underneath her breasts.

She wanted to reach up and touch his face. She wanted to
tell him everything —about dragons, fires and suspicions— and hope he’d
understand. Her nerves skittered every which way. Damn, had she hurt him? She
took a deep breath and gathered her courage. A well-manicured white hand
settled on Jack’s shoulder.

“I believe you promised me this dance,” Kate laughed.

Lynn turned away and ran smack into a broad chest. Henry.

“Ready for the next dance, m’lady?”

She laughed. There were other men. Jack and his bad temper
suddenly seemed too much work. Of course, she needed a man about as much as her
dragon needed to get laid. “Only if you commit to an interview first.”

He chuckled and gathered her in his arms. A whiff of warm
orange and bergamot swept through her, relaxed her. A voice whispered in her
head.
No reason you can’t enjoy the company of a nice guy
.

“You are relentless,” he said.

“Yes, I am. The relentless reporter.” That sounded so good
that she almost believed it. She quirked an eyebrow at him.

He pulled in a sharp breath, his gaze fixed on her. “Okay,
let’s meet for drinks on Monday.”

Laughter spurted out of Lynn. “The way an interview works is
I ask you questions,” she said. “I think I want my wits sharp for that.”

He dipped her, held her off balance for a minute. “Are you
saying you’re done in by one drink?”

Relax
. When she was upright and looking into his
eyes, she cleared her throat. “I’m saying I don’t mix business with pleasure.”

Henry whirled her out and pulled her close again. “Okay,
I’ll have a beer and you can have San Angelo water. Believe me, that’s not a
pleasure.”

A giggle burst from her, and then Henry swung them around
the dance floor. Her gaze found Jack and Kate dancing. A lightning bolt of
jealousy shot through her, followed by a tumble of emotions. Better matched in
height, Kate looked into Jack’s eyes as they waltzed by.

Henry blew into her ear. She raised her head from his
shoulder and saw a teasing smile on his face.
Live a little
. “Made up
your mind about Monday yet?”

Say yes
.
Say yes
. What was wrong with a little
bit of fun? Henry was a nice guy. So he didn’t make fireworks go off inside her,
but he made her feel good, made her laugh. “Sure, when and where?”

After cheering Timmy on as he blew out his candles and cut
the cake, Lynn grabbed her piece and found a seat. Elsie Tavistock clapped a
hand to her heart and beamed. “Oh you looked so happy on the dance floor.”

“It tired me out,” she laughed and wiggled into a
comfortable position.

“You know, dancing is one of the things I miss the most,”
Elsie looked down at her lap. “This danged arthritis has taken so much from me.”

“Oh.” Panic gripped Lynn as she stared at the metal rims of
Elsie’s wheel chair. What could she say that wouldn’t sound trite? “I-I’m
sorry. I hope you had many dances before.”

Tavistock settled on Elsie’s other side, and handed his wife
a glass of punch. “Aye, that we did.” He kissed her on the forehead. “Enjoyed
every one of them. And Elsie was the most beautiful woman there, still is.”

Elsie laughed and leaned into her husband. “He’s partial to
me,” she said. Her bright blue eyes turned serious. “Make good use of every
chance life gives you to dance.”

The words slipped inside her head, resonated, called up an
answering twinge of emptiness. She nodded. They were joined by Jen and a tall,
pretty woman with a cloud of auburn curls held up by a gigantic silver clip.

Jen introduced her as Annie Avery, Jack’s sister. On hearing
Lynn’s name, Annie squealed in delight. “I read that story you did on the fire
at the Jarvis house.”

Lynn smiled as warmth spread through her. “I hope you liked
it.”

“Oh yes, I cried,” Annie said. “But it was funny to see my
brother portrayed as the hero.”

“Well, he was rather heroic,” Lynn replied.

Annie laughed. “I’m sure he was, but it’s still funny to
me.” She proceeded to regale the table with a “you-wouldn’t-believe-what-Jack-did-as-a-young-‘un”
story.

Apparently, Jack was twelve when Annie got married.
“Half-way through the reception, the family couldn’t find Jack. “Imagine me
clutching my puffy wedding-cake dress up a mile from the dirt as I tottered
around.” She shook her head. “But he was a hot-headed tyke with a tendency to
get into trouble, so we wanted him found.”