Wildfire (9 page)

Lynn leaned back in his arms and kept her eyes trained on
the sideboard. Where she’d seen dragons and gone on alert, Jack had seen the
creatures and thought of the craftsman, someone who’d spent hours making pieces
of wood into functional art. His noticing and appreciation made her wonder if
she needed to slow down and take in the details of life. Or maybe she was just
coming down with something.

They passed a series of family portraits. All of the men
sported dark hair, green eyes, high cheekbones and hawkish noses. The last face
seemed softer, with rounded, ruddy cheeks and multiple chins. The one before it
had twinkling eyes and a mysterious smile. He seemed to be a good-looking
rogue. But the other two were almost identical down to the cold eyes and
sneering lips. The first one had a flare of white hair giving the man a
skunk-like appearance.

“Who’s who?” she asked.

“Great-great-grandpa, followed by Great-grand pa, Grandpa,
and my father.”

He carried her through another set of doors and stopped just
inside. Musky dragon smell hung in the air, soft and dry, like undisturbed time
in a forgotten cave. “Can you turn on the lights? The switch is just by your
head.”

She flicked on the switch and light flooded the room. A
number of animal heads —from deer to bear— stared down at her with glass eyes.
She stifled a scream as her gaze shifted from curved horns to bared fangs. In
the end, none of it had been enough. A shudder ran down her spine. Damn spooky.
She pulled her gaze away from those eyes. “I see you are a decorating-with-dead-animals
fan.”

Jack laughed as he settled her into a gigantic leather
armchair and pulled up a stool for her foot. “Not really,” he said. “This was
my grandfather’s sanctuary and he was the great hunter.”

He waved a hand around. “Then my father inherited it and added
some of the furniture. I haven’t bothered changing the décor.”

She looked around. A lot of the things —like the heavily
carved desk, the wet bar, the ornate crystal chandelier, the thick maroon
drapes with gold fringes— didn’t seem to fit Jack.

“So how come you haven’t laid your claim?” she asked. “I
thought all men marked their territory.”

“I don’t know,” he said. “Just hadn’t thought about it. I’ll
get the ice pack.”

She watched him leave. An interesting man with hidden
layers. Well, she’d unwrap him— the mental image that popped into her head
warmed her all over again.
Figuratively speaking only
. She’d get to the
bottom of the who and what of Jack Callaghan. She looked around the room until
the display cabinet occupying a corner caught her attention. Curious, she
padded over to it. Guns, of course. A few arrowheads and battered ancient
coins. Her gaze fell on a dessert-plate-sized shimmering scale and she drew in
a sharp breath. Silvery, with concentric rings of white on white, it was
beautiful. “A dragon scale,” she whispered. “A big one, too.”

Trembling with equal measures of excitement and nerves, Lynn
fumbled with the latch. Finally, it snicked open and she reached in. For a
moment her hand hovered over the scale. Touching it, holding it, would make it
so much more undeniably real. But she’d never seen such a large scale. How big
was the dragon it came from? Even
Obaa-chan
, the oldest dragon she’d
known personally, had been like thirteen feet, the size of a playground
see-saw. She took a few calming breaths. This particular dragon must have been
more like a Tyrannosaurus Rex.

Her fingers closed on the cool, smooth scale. She pulled it
out and cradled it, spending minutes just staring at the thing. Finally, her
mind kicked into gear. She counted the calcified rings, each representing a
year. Damn, the thing had been about a hundred and twenty years old when it
lost this particular scale. So, not Jack. He definitely didn’t act like an
ancient dragon.

She held the scale up to the light. The tension in her
shoulders relaxed. The edges were almost transparent, so the dragon had lost
the scale a long time ago. Good, then her chances of running into a ginormous
geriatric dragon were pretty remote.

She gently returned the scale to its place in the display
cabinet and latched the door again.

“What are you doing up?”

Guilt flushed through her as she turned. How long had he
been standing there? “Curiosity got the best of me.”

“Haven’t you heard of the saying curiosity killed the cat?”
He walked over to her and looked into the cabinet. “More worthless ancestor
junk.”

“They can’t be totally worthless,” she said. “Otherwise, why
keep them?”

“There are some neat stories attached to most of those
items,” he said. “That musket for instance was used by my great, great
grandfather when he was a foot soldier in the confederate army.”

“What about the scale?”

He laughed. “My grandfather always told these tall fishing
tales. The more he drank, the larger and wilder the fish got.” He gazed at the
scale. “Looks like at least one of his stories might have been true. That must
have been a monster.”

Lynn stared at Jack. Was he truly clueless about the scale?
Or was he lying again? “Why didn’t he get it stuffed and mounted like his other
trophies?”

He glanced around the walls. “Maybe he ran out of space.” He
swept her off her feet and carried her back to the chair. “Let’s take care of
the foot, then I’ll drive you back to Jen’s.”

Once he’d settled her into a chair, Jack knelt at her feet
and quirked a brow at her. “Which one hurts?”

“The left.”

His fingers slipped under her calf, raised her foot and placed
it on a well-muscled thigh.

Lynn gnawed her lower lip as he pulled the lace out of its
knot and carefully eased the shoe off. What took moments seemed to take
agonizingly long. He peeled the sock off and revealed her foot.

She felt strangely naked as his cool fingers caressed and
massaged her skin. How could such innocent touch be so intimate? Warmth pulsed
through her, made her gasp.

His fingers stilled. “Sorry, did that hurt?”

“No.” She licked her lip. “It felt good.”

He smiled and his fingers worked their way up, slipped under
her pants leg.

Lynn closed her eyes as all thought ceased to exist, aware
only of the desire that thrummed and shivered through her body.

Fingers and heat traveled back down. Then a sharp jab of
cold. Breath hissed out of her. Lynn’s eyes popped open as she almost leapt
from the chair.

He’d applied the damn ice-pack.

Chapter 8

Jen nodded. Being an early riser, she’d read the paper
first. “You have a writing talent. You shouldn’t waste it.”

“Maybe,” Lynn said taking a sip of her coffee. “Writing an
article like this is definitely more rewarding than some of the ad jingles I
had to come up with.”

“I know I prefer you out of work and writing cool articles
rather than dying a slow corporate death.” Jen arched an eyebrow. “Or writing a
book you don’t share with anybody.”

Lynn sighed. Yeah well, some people had natural talent and
calling, while others had nightmares and screwed-up lives. Sometimes, she
envied Jen’s creative and happy spirit.

Her friend glanced at her watch and hopped out of her chair.
“
Vamonos!
We have to go!” They planned to ride together to the county
meeting since Jen would be requesting a grant for Paradise Valley Volunteer
Fire Department. Lynn chased after her.

When they arrived at the county courthouse, Jen screeched
into a parking spot. “Let’s go, let’s go!”

Lynn followed Jen into the library, then up the stairs to
the second-floor meeting room. They stood huffing in front of the closed door.
A young girl, sitting at a table covered in piles of paper, handed them agendas
along with a welcoming smile. “They’re still in executive session.”

“All that hurrying, just to wait,” Lynn jabbed her elbow
into her friend’s arm.

Jen rolled her eyes and then introduced the girl as Lexie,
the new intern at the county clerk’s office.

“What are they in closed session about?” The lowliest person
on the totem pole often gave details without knowing any better.

Lexie shrugged. “Some personnel issues and a land deal of
some sort.”

Just as Lynn opened her mouth to ask more questions, the
girl’s cell phone chirped. Lexie glanced at it and lit up. “It’s the boyfriend.
Hey, can you guys watch the table for a bit?” She waved at the table. “Hand out
agendas and stuff if someone new comes by?”

Receiving their nods, she thanked them and took off down the
corridor giggling into the phone. Jen sank into the chair, as Lynn glanced at
the agenda. Curiosity pricked her. What land development? Where in the county?
She looked through the stacks of paper on the table. “Great, there’s supporting
materials for all the agenda items in the public session.”

Jen shook her head. “Think of all the poor trees. I’m
lobbying for them to put everything on CDs and made available to anyone
interested.”

“Not a bad idea, but not everybody has a computer or uses
one.” Lynn picked up one of everything. Her eyes fell on a stack of red folders
that had spilled across the floor behind the chair. She bent down and restacked
the folders, taking one for her pile.

The door flew open, and several men stepped out laughing and
shaking hands. A tall, young man, dressed in a snappy navy blue blazer and
chinos, stuck out among the more casual county bunch. Her gut tightened, and
the dragon shivered under her skin. Surprised and suspicious at the sudden
wakefulness of her beast, Lynn considered the young man.

Did he have something to do with the proposed development? He
definitely looked city-slick— his clothes, the shoes, and the Bluetooth almost
hidden by trendy longish brown hair with blond highlights. Yet, somehow, he
reminded her of Jack. Maybe it was his bearing. Or maybe she just had Jack on
her mind.

Both men were about the same height and coloring, but the
similarities ended there. This guy seemed thinner, his face softer, rounder— overall,
more boyish.

Then the stranger’s pale gray eyes met hers.

Cold ghostly fingers brushed her thoughts. Lynn stiffened,
then forced out a smile.

His gaze traveled down her body and then back again. Red,
hot lust slammed her. Lynn sucked in a breath. For an intense moment she could
smell the guy’s cologne, a spicy blend of lemons, oranges, and rosemary with a
hint of musk.

“Henry, how about talking some more over breakfast at
Fuentes?” One of the other men spoke from the group.

The man broke eye contact as he turned to answer.

The vortex of feelings, emotions, and sensations ceased as
if a faucet had been turned off. Lynn dragged in a breath, her shoulders sagged
in relief. Something was definitely wrong with the dragon.

Lynn hurried after Jen into the meeting room. What was up
with the creature? Biological clock ticking? Or was this the dragon equivalent
of menopausal hot flashes? Okay, so she was only five years away from thirty.
Not horribly old. After all, in dragon years that’d translate to what, fifteen?
Oh, great. Teenage hormones.

Unease tugged at her, all prickly and insistent. She glanced
back.

The man stood watching her. He winked just before Lexie shut
the door.

“Pigeon poop.” Lynn’s fingers hovered above her keyboard.
Would the
Herald
print the phrase even as a direct quote?

Armed with a Diet Coke, her notes and a stack of documents,
she sat at Jen’s kitchen table typing her story on the county commissioner’s
meeting. She focused on the Paradise Valley Volunteer Fire Department’s grant request
as that had been the most interesting thing on the agenda.

Jen had marched to the podium and said: “The new fire engine
we have, thanks to you and the federal government, sticks several feet out of
the barn we’ve to park it in. So next time you see the engine and the back part
is covered in pigeon poop, don’t be surprised.”

The audience laughed in response. Jen was a hoot. But
obviously an effective hoot. The commissioners’ awarded the VFD $50,000 of the
$100,000 they needed.

Finally, after consulting her notes, she used the more
dignified Jen quote in the story: “We need to build a new fire station that can
adequately hold all our equipment and have an area for community gatherings.”
Lynn grinned. The girl owed her, and she’d remind her of it. Of course, then
Jen could pull out a whole laundry list of what Lynn owed in return. Okay, no
gloating.

She typed in the last period, leaned her chair back on two
legs and reviewed the story. Short and sweet. The smiling faces of all five
commissioners danced through her head. They had seemed almost happy to allocate
the money.

Michael Ward, one of the commissioners had said: “We read in
the newspaper what a wonderful job y’all did at the Jarvises. We want to make
sure the volunteer firefighters have everything they need to continue doing a
good job and keep the community safe.”

Even now, hours after the meeting, Lynn basked in the warm
fuzzies of the statement. Talk about a domino effect. Maybe many people
wouldn’t consider a freelance writer an Essential Employee, but she felt
essential. She returned the chair to its upright position and glanced at Jen’s
studio door. Still shut. Oh well, she’d just have to read the story in the
paper tomorrow. Lynn hit the send button.

She stood and stretched. Her stomach rumbled. Dropping the
empty Coke can in the recycling bin, Lynn headed for the refrigerator. No
chocolate, no dips. Looked like Jen had already halfway shifted into the raw
food idea she’d talked about. Lynn grabbed an apple and munched her way back to
the kitchen table.

Her gaze settled on the stack of papers— material she’d
picked up at the meeting and her notes. One more look to see if she could get a
few more story ideas from any of them and then into the recycling bin the whole
pile would go. Lynn plunked into her chair, ready to work. A bit of red,
sticking out from underneath the stack, caught her eye.

Her heart leaped. She’d forgotten all about the folder. If
it turned up something important, she’d have to send in another story right
away. Fun, fun. She flexed her fingers, and pulled it out. Nothing on the cover
indicated what lay inside. She flipped it open and began to read.

The studio door opened and Cyndi Lauper’s
Girls Just
Wanna Have Fun
poured into the kitchen. Lynn slammed the folder shut and
looked up.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,
chica
.” Jen
stood, cleaning paint from her fingernails with a rag. Her hair stuck out every
which way, making her look like a lime green porcupine. “My stomach told me to
come out and fix lunch.”

Lynn glanced up at the cat-shaped kitchen clock. Fifteen
minutes past one. Where had the time gone? “Sorry, I should have fixed us
something, but I got lost in paperwork.”

Jen washed her hands at the sink and headed for the
refrigerator. “Don’t worry about it. So what’s so interesting?” She pulled out
salad ingredients and carried them to the counter next to the sink.

Lynn bit her lip and watched Jen slice and dice. Within
minutes of reading, she’d figured out she held the conceptual design of the
proposed land development. Contraband material. Should she compound her sins by
sharing the information with Jen? Oh hell, she was already in trouble. “Okay,
this has to stay between you and me.”

“Oooh, do tell.” Jen’s eyebrows danced up and down as she
carried the tossed salad to the table and settled into a chair.

Lynn grabbed plates and utensils. She helped herself to
heaps of spinach, artichoke hearts, mandarin oranges, and grilled chicken.
“It’s a proposal for developing thirty five hundred acres as a high-end
subdivision— three hundred houses at about $400,000 each.” She took a bite.
Cheese. It needed cheese.

Jen’s eyes widened as she let out a low whistle. “Where are
they planning it?”

She hurried to the refrigerator and grabbed the hunk of
Cheddar, then a knife. “Paradise Valley.”

“Holy Purple Cow!” Jen glanced at the folder then at Lynn.
She squinted. “Wait a minute, is this what they discussed in closed session?
Where did you get the folder?”

Her face burned. “It was an accident. I must’ve grabbed it
when I picked up all the additional information.” She focused on cutting the
cheese into slivers over her salad.

“Lynn, you shouldn’t have this.”

“I know.”

Jen pushed away her half-eaten salad and jumped out of her
chair. She crossed her arms and paced. “You are going to get in trouble for
this.”

“Thanks for the news flash.” Lynn nibbled her thumb. “Only
if they find out. I mean, they might know it’s missing, but they don’t know I
have it.”

Jen glared at her. “Lynn!”

She held up her hands in surrender. “I can’t just hand this
back to some commissioner, giggle and apologize for the silly mistake. No one’s
going to buy that.” She twirled her fork, making the spinach dance.

“Well, you definitely shouldn’t have read it.”

Lynn sighed. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have read it, and I
shouldn’t have said anything to you.”

Jen stomped to the table and reached for the folder, but
Lynn snatched it away. “No, no, I should start doing the right thing at some
point.”

“Oh cut the crap!” Jen rolled her eyes and threw herself
back into her chair. She grabbed the folder. “Heck, you’re going to hang for it
anyway.”

She read with pursed lips. “Huh, they’ve designated two
hundred acres in the middle for a shopping center.”

“Well, right next to it they have a children’s park.” Lynn
pointed at the much smaller green area on the drawing.

Jen snorted. “Yeah, look at the comparative sizes. Freaking
developers!” She flipped back to the map locating the proposed subdivision in
the county. “That’s a lot of land, and the Jarvis property is right at the
center of it.”

Lynn pored over the spot Jen indicated. “I wonder if they’ve
had an offer on the land.” She needed to ask around.

Jen shrugged. “I can’t imagine them selling. In fact, I can
see quite a few people in the area turning down their offer. There’s a lot of
family history tied up in those properties.”

“Even if the price is right?” Lynn glanced at the business
card attached to the proposal. Something sparked in her mind, but she couldn’t
stoke it into fire just yet. “The representative, Henry Chase, looked rich and
confident.” She flipped through her papers and notes.

Jen frowned. “Maybe, money can make a difference to some
people, but I doubt it. He came sniffing around here, but lost interest when I
told him I was merely the renter.”

Lynn bound out of her chair and rummaged through Jen’s
collection of pens and pencils by the phone. She grabbed a red pen and drew
lines across the Jarvis land.

“Great, now you’re defacing a document you shouldn’t have.”

“Hush, finders keepers.” Lynn continued to draw, then pulled
back and cocked her head to look at what she’d drawn. She rolled the pen to
Jen. “Can you locate the other recent fires on this?”

After they plotted out the fires, Jen let out a low whistle.
“Well, that’s some interesting overlap.”