True Love's Fire: A Red Hot Valentine Story (Hell Yeah!) (2 page)

“I should have been here. They begged me to come home for Christmas.”

Scott’s tortured words made Jordan look at him. “I was busy, too. I had plans to go out for supper tonight. I had a damn date.”

“What a way to spend Christmas Day.” They drove up to the ranch house and were shocked to see the rubble and devastation. “Where are they?”

“Over at the funeral home in Bastrop, where Mother’s people are.” Both men exited Jordan’s truck and walked over to the smoldering mass of timber and rock. “Doesn’t even look familiar, does it?”

“No.” Scott shook his head. “What will we do?”

“I don’t know. Rebuild, I guess. This is our home.” Jordan walked around. “I hope they never knew what was happening.”

“I never want to live here.” Scott turned his back on the debris. “I’ll live in Austin. It would be too painful to ever live here again.”

Jordan wiped his eyes. “I hate this happened the day you became engaged. At least you have Renee to hold on to.”

“I don’t. She turned me down.”

Jordan stared at his brother. “God, I’m sorry.”

Scott was silent. He’d lost his family, his home and the woman he’d hoped to spend the future with in one day. What the future held for him, he didn’t know. He was almost afraid to find out.

CHAPTER ONE

You came into my life

Such a surprise

An unexpected gift

With hope in your eyes

“Sandra, you have it all wrong.” Scott Walker turned off his computer as he spoke to his most recent paramour. “Jada and I broke it off a while back. She was just dropping off a book I left in her car.” How had she got past his secretary? Perhaps he and Susie needed to have another conversation on how to protect his privacy and keep his female admirers separated at the same time.

“Liar. No one reads books anymore,” Sandra fumed, hands on her hips, chest stuck out. “They’re passé. She was here for a quickie, I’m not stupid.” Leaning toward him, she glared at Scott through narrowed eyes. “The real problem, Mr. High and Mighty Doctor, is that you can’t keep your dick in your pants.”

All right, time to get this situation under control
. “I disagree.”

“It’s true. You change women like most people change the sheets on their bed.”

“Oh, I’m not arguing with that point. I was merely pointing out that I don’t enjoy ebooks, I prefer to hold a real book in my hands.” He was packing his briefcase for their rendezvous, but even he could read the writing on the wall. It appeared he would be making the trip alone.

“Fine.” She slammed her hand down flat on his desk. “A book is all you’ll be holding this weekend,” she snarled. “If you think I’m going to spend New Year’s holed up in some hillbilly cabin with your two-timing ass, you’re sadly mistaken.”

“Fine.” He gave her a cold, tight smile. The days of his being hurt by a female were long gone. After Renee turned his world upside down, Scott vowed he’d never make himself vulnerable to a woman again. Love wasn’t real. It was a chemical reaction in the brain. He ought to know. Dr. Scott Walker was the most respected neurobiologist in the south. “Don’t be overly dramatic, love. I had a magnificent week planned. I would have wined and dined you during the day and made all your dreams come true at night.” The lines were so practiced, he’d lost all inflection in his voice. “Oh, well.” Scott was showing less emotion than he would if he were reading the phone book out loud.

She laughed. “Have a good time playing with yourself.”

Showing her to the exit, he opened it and stepped back for her to walk through. “Will do.” Scott didn’t watch her leave. He closed the door and stared out the window of his office complex. He had a beautiful view of Lady Bird Lake. “Dammit.” For a few seconds, he contemplated his choices. The cabin was already paid for, and he’d already rented the damn car because Sandy refused to ride in his pick-up. For a moment he considered trying to find another date. No, he decided. Actually he thought he might rather be alone. There’d be no sex, but what the hell, he could use the time to write on his paper for the Medical Journal. 

Fuck yea, why not. Buzzing his secretary, he checked his watch. “Susie, I’m heading up to Arkansas in a while. Give me Aron McCoy’s phone number. I want to give him a call and check on him.”

“Yes, sir. Did you know he’s a sculptor as well as being a rancher? Isn’t that wild? I saw some of his work at an exhibit on Western Art down in Kerrville.”

“No, I didn’t know that,” Scott admitted as he entered the number in his cell. “I’ll be back on the 6
th
or thereabouts.”

“All right, making a note of it. Remember you have Mr. Watkins’ surgery scheduled on the 9
th
.”

“I remember and I dread it. His chances aren’t the best in the world.”

“If anyone can save him, you can.”

At least his secretary was loyal. “Thank you, and Susie, make sure you never allow a woman into my office without warning me, especially if I already have one visiting.” He paused for effect. “And I’m not talking about patients.”  

“Got it, Boss.” After conferring further about a number of appointments and referrals, Scott left his office and headed to the garage. He was already packed, his plan had been to leave here at noon and be making love to Sandy at the Peabody Hotel in Little Rock before midnight. “Oh well, her loss.” Sandy was a spectacular looking woman—almost six feet, stacked, a platinum blonde who knew she was beautiful and acted like it. She was typical for him. Apparently he had a type. What he didn’t want was attachment. It was hard to find a lover who could separate sex from emotion. But that was his big requirement. He made no promises. No proposal, no
commitment, no promises.

As he walked across the concrete of the parking garage, the heels of his dress boots made a deep clicking noise. Several people passed him, heading in for lab work. “Dr. Walker.” A voice caught his attention. He stopped. It was Roger Bowman, Rebecca Bowman’s husband.

“How are you? How’s Rebecca?”

Mr. Bowman smiled. “We’re perfect. Her vision is improving every day.” He held something up to Scott. “She made you a pie. Coconut.”

“Excellent!” He took the covered carrier. “Tell her thank you and that I’m glad she’s improving.”

“We owe you everything.” Roger wiped his eyes. “She went blind so fast, and the other doctors were just missing the problem.”

“I’m glad I was called in.” Rebecca had a benign tumor pressing on her optic nerve. No brain surgery was minor, anytime the brain was exposed to air it was serious, but Rebecca was one patient he had been able to help.

“Enjoy your pie and have a Happy New Year.” Bowman started to leave, but he turned back and hugged Scott. “We’ll never forget you.”

“I won’t forget you, either.” Scott promised. As he watched the other man walk off, he realized how important it was to connect. Lately he’d gotten caught up in the drama of his career and the sameness of his social life. He missed the friends he’d made in college. Scott had gone to school at Stanford, so his classmates were scattered all over the world. What he needed was…Jordan! He hadn’t seen his brother, but a few hours on Christmas Day. Scott smiled. Maybe Jordan could get away and join him. Not hesitating a moment, he placed the call.

A couple of seconds later, the familiar voice came through the speaker. “Scott, talk fast, I’m headed out the door.”

“So am I. I was hoping I could talk you into going up to Arkansas with me for a week. We could do some hiking, maybe some fishing, really catch up.”

“I’d love to, if I didn’t already have plans. What’s your route? Are you going through Dallas?”

“Yea, what’s up?” Throwing his bag in the backseat of the rented Lexus, he placed the pie carefully on the floorboard, climbed in and started the engine.

“Ava and I are headed to Tahoe for a few days. I was about to drive to meet her at DFW Airport, but if you could drop me off, it would solve our problem for the return trip.”

Jordan began to explain the intricacies of the plans with his girlfriend, who lived in Fort Worth, but Scott interrupted him. “It doesn’t matter. I’d love to give you a ride. I’ll be by your house in fifteen minutes. We can have a good talk on the way.” He checked the fuel, deciding to gas up before he left town. Now he thought he’d just drive straight through, if Windswept was available a day earlier. As he pulled out of the parking garage, he pressed the button on the steering wheel to activate the car phone.

“Buffalo River Cabins, this is Mary speaking.”

The slightly shrill female voice made him wince. Geez, what a twang. “Hello, Mary, this is Scott Walker. I have reservations for a week beginning tomorrow night at Windswept.”

A humming noise floated through the line. “Let me see.” More humming. “Yes, you do. I found you.”

That was comforting. “Would it be a problem if I came tonight? My plans have changed.”

“Welllllllll,” she drew the word out, as if considering. “I don’t suppose so.”

“Good. Thank you. I’ll be there in a few hours.” He disconnected the call, needing to concentrate in the heavy traffic. Getting into the cabin shouldn’t be a problem no matter his time of arrival; they were supposed to leave the key under the mat. Humming off key, he hit I-35 and headed north, taking the turn toward his brother’s place. In no time flat, Jordan was putting his bags in the trunk, and joining him in the front seat. “I can’t believe you’re going off without female companionship. Are you sick?”

Scott snorted. Jordan didn’t beat around the bush. “There was a bit of confusion at the office. I didn’t manage to keep my Miss December away from Miss January.”

“Bummer.” Jordan chuckled. “I don’t see how you ever get a woman to date you more than once with the attitude you have.”

“What do you mean?” Scott glanced at him. “I’m good company. I’m generous to a fault and always upfront about expectations.”

“Oh, really?” This had Jordan’s attention. “How so? Watch that 18-wheeler coming up on your right.” Scott was careful, but it was Jordan’s nature to be a back seat driver. A slight drizzle had begun to fall.

Adjusting his rear-view mirror, Scott began to explain. “I state from the get-go that I’m not looking for commitment. I offer them companionship, a good time and as many orgasms as they can handle.”

Jordan smirked. “You realize you’re setting yourself up for a hard fall. I know Renee hurt you, but you’ve become a machine. Women adore you, but you’ve built a wall between yourself and love that’s higher than the walls at the Alamo.”

“The walls at the Alamo weren’t over twelve feet at their highest point.” If he wanted to discuss fun facts about the birthplace of the Texas revolution, Scott could do that all day. Their father had been an authority on the Alamo, Goliad and San Jacinto. He and his brother hadn’t had a chance. They were history buffs in self-defense.

“You’ll meet that special woman one day, and I’m going to sit back and enjoy watching you squirm.”

Scott didn’t let his brother faze him. “Our society has it all wrong about relationships. People aren’t meant to be monogamous. Women choose the alpha male who is most able to protect her and provide what she needs. But when a stronger alpha comes along, she becomes restless. Men choose a mate based solely on appearance, and they are satisfied until a fresh face and a better ass comes along. It’s just science. The euphoria people feel when they become attracted to one another is merely endorphins and conditioning. Love is a myth.”

Jordan stared at Scott. “Who are you and what did you do with my brother?” He could remember conversations they’d had growing up, planning their lives and what they’d be like. “You weren’t raised like this. When we lived at WestStar with Mom and Pop, riding the horses and helping with the cattle, you sang a different tune.”

“Well, those days are gone.” Scott exhaled, his expression tightening with sorrow.

“WestStar is still ours, brother. We just have to decide what we’re going to do with it. It wasn’t your fault, you know.” Jordan looked at his brother with sorrow. “The fire was nobody’s fault.”

“If I hadn’t been chasing a woman who didn’t want me, I would have been there. Mother asked me to come.”

“They asked me to come too.” Jordan looked at his brother. “Don’t you know I’d give anything to turn back the clock, to go home for Christmas? But who’s to say we could have stopped it, or if we would’ve survived.”

“We should have been there,” Scott muttered. “You had the house redone, why haven’t you ever moved in? Or do you intend to?” Jordan was one of the best architects in the city, but he had poured his heart into rebuilding their home. 

“The place is yours. You’re the oldest. Every rock and twig on that place has your name on it.”

“I can’t.” Scott shook his head. “I just can’t. It’s too big. WestStar would swallow me.”

“Not if you got married and filled the house with kids.” He grinned, knowing he was probably getting on Scott’s nerves.

He was, and Scott wasn’t having it. He just changed the subject. “So, are you and Ava serious?”

Realizing the discussion was over, Jordan took off his hat and laid it on the back seat. “It’s too early to tell. I like her, but I’m looking for something more.”

Scott grimaced. “You’re looking for fireworks, colliding steam engines and tidal waves.”

“Yes, I am.” Jordan didn’t even try to deny it. “I’m a romantic.”

Shaking his head, Scott laughed. “Oh, well, you’ll learn soon enough. Even when you think you’ve found it, the feeling doesn’t last. It can’t. Reality never lives up to foolish expectations.”

Looking out the window, Jordan didn’t answer for a few moments. When he did, he stared at his brother. “Mark my word, one day you’ll meet someone who’ll knock you on your ass. And I have a funny feeling it won’t be long. In fact, I bet you’re engaged by next summer.”

Bet? Scott laughed. “All right, I’ll make you a bet. If I am, as you say, engaged, I’ll give you Jim Bowie’s knife.”

“Hah!” Jordan shouted. “You’re damn serious. That’s your prize possession, the defender of the Alamo’s knife.”

“Yes, I am. Got anything to wager?”

“All right.” Jordan nodded. “If you’re still single by Halloween, I’ll give you Sam Houston’s pocket watch.”

“Deal.” They shook hands.  

They didn’t fight about their differences of opinion, but neither Walker gave an inch. After dropping him off at the airport to meet Ava, Scott hooked a right and took 20 till he hit Texarkana. As he drove, his mind drifted. Turning on the radio, he listened to Cabe Allen sing a tune. Country music wasn’t normally his choice, but this man put out some quality recordings. It wasn’t so much his voice; it was the words of his songs which spoke to Scott. They were more than mere crooning about a broken heart, his tractor or cowboys. The man sang ballads. The tales they wove were mesmerizing. Pure poetry. He told of Civil War battles, old west adventure and mountain magic. Scott respected the thought, the research and the talent it took to tell a story in just a few stanzas. This particular one was about the siege of Vicksburg.      

As the car ate up the miles, moving north, past Hope and Hot Springs, he telephoned Aron, who answered on the second ring. “McCoy.”

“Aron, this is Dr. Walker. I’ve called to check on you and see how you’re feeling.” Scott could hear a lot of noise in the background, happy family noise. The McCoys were a big family and he’d heard a lot about them. Their exploits were always making the newspapers. Just recently, Aron had been rescued from the hands of a drug cartel in Mexico.

“Excellent. I had a wonderful holiday, couldn’t ask for better. After all, I’m back home with my wife and family. How about you?”

“Me, too.” Not really. He’d had a quick meal with Jordan and an unspectacular night with Jada. “Have you regained any more memories?”

A deep happy laugh rumbled over the phone. “Yes, I have, thank God. I was at a party with all of those who rescued me and when I looked out at my friends and family, especially my wife, something just clicked. I guess those drugs the chemist told us about wore off, just like you said they would.”

“Marvelous!” Scott was really glad. “Would you be willing to come back in after the New Year and allow me to do a little bit more analysis? What we discover about those drugs and your reaction to them could go a long way in helping others.”

“Sure, I’d be glad to. Libby and I were talking and we’d love to have you out at the house sometimes soon.”

Scott smiled. “I’d like that. Why don’t we set something up when you come to my office? I’ll have my secretary get in touch with you and set up an appointment.”

He finished the conversation and placed a call to his office. Having that settled, he felt better. In his field of study, Scott was extremely interested in the way the mind worked and how drugs affected it. Aron had also been through a traumatic brain injury and surgery, having been hurt in a diving accident which left him with a cerebral hemorrhage. Scott didn’t know the full story, but he’d followed the search for Aron on the news. He’d disappeared while snorkeling on his honeymoon. Just recently, when the story of his rescue broke, it was revealed how he’d been picked up out of the water and taken aboard a yacht belonging to a female drug lord. She’d saved his life by getting him to a hospital for brain surgery, and then proceeded to lie to him about who he was and why he was there. Well, it was almost like a movie of the week. The most tragic thing about the whole ordeal was that his pregnant wife and all of his family had feared he was dead, when in fact he was being kept hostage and drugged by a woman who’d been in love with him for years. After a chance discovery, his family and friends had rallied and rescued him in a move which would’ve made any Black Op team proud. Aron’s recovery spoke volumes about his strength of spirit and determination. Making friends with the elder McCoy brother and his family was something he was looking forward to.