Hearts on Fire Read online

  HEARTS ON FIRE

  by

  Roz Lee

  Single father and firefighter, Steve Rankin has every reason to distrust flighty people, given the way his former girlfriend dropped their infant daughter on his doorstep six years ago then left to ‘find herself.’ When the fortune-teller at the Renaissance fair tells him there’s a woman who needs him, he rejects the prediction as so much idiocy from a fraud who couldn’t even predict a fire in time to save her booth from burning to the ground.

  Shannon Perry isn’t looking for love, despite her friend Nadya’s prediction that a man with broad shoulders is in her future. It’s been years since Shannon has felt anything except numb, so when desire stirs in her body for the sexy firefighter with the adorable sprite of a daughter, stepping closer to the flames is too tempting to resist. From the sparks of desire, the fire burns hot and fast for both of them, but lessons learned the hard way could stand between them and a future together.

  eBooks are not transferable. Please do not sell, share or reproduce in any way as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental and the product of the authors imagination or have been used fictitiously.

  Copyright © 2014 by Roz Lee

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the copyright holder.

  http://www.rozlee.net

  ISBN: 978-0-9911687-4-3

  Hearts on Fire first appeared in the multi-author anthology

  Seduction – One Fortune at a Time. (Cupid Publishing, Sept. 2014)

  DEDICATION

  To my fellow Red Sage authors who have been friends, mentors, and occasionally, a sounding board.

  CHAPTER ONE

  The only thing Steve disliked more than flighty people was saying no to Meggie. He couldn’t deny anything to the blue-eyed angel tugging him over to yet another booth selling ridiculous girly things. At six, his daughter loved anything pink or sparkly as evidenced by the new summer sandals on her feet, which were both.

  He’d known from the moment he saw where they were headed they wouldn’t leave without one of the headbands with ribbons hanging off the back. The adornments were nothing more than wire and curling ribbon twisted to form a circle. More ribbon trailed down and, in Meggie’s case, pooled on the ground at her heels.

  “Is that the one you want?” His wallet grew thinner every minute they spent at the faire. But when his daughter looked up at him, giggling at the way the ribbons tickled the back of her bare legs, he couldn’t regret a single dime he’d spent on her throughout the day.

  Attending the annual Renaissance faire was an indulgence, but there had been so few of those in Meggie’s short life, he didn’t begrudge her this special time. She’d noticed the event flyer in the window of the shoe store the day before. The colorful photos depicting horses, craft booths, and people clad in period dress had caught her eye. She’d picked out a few words on her own—the important ones—faire, food, fun, and Saturday. Before he’d finished reading the whole thing to her, he’d agreed to take her.

  He didn’t know how kettle corn and hot dogs figured into the medieval theme, but the anomaly hadn’t stopped them from consuming more junk food than he normally allowed in their diet in a month’s time. Being a single parent wasn’t easy, he’d found out. If keeping the kid alive wasn’t difficult enough, a parent had to establish rules as well as set a good example. Which meant cutting out the junk food and modeling responsible behavior. Doing the latter came easy. Steve had only been irresponsible once in his life, and since he had Meggie to show for his reckless behavior, he couldn’t really regret it. Cutting back on junk food had been a bit more demanding, but economic necessity forced him to make choices. Two people living on a fireman’s salary left little in the way of discretionary income.

  Like he did with everything, Steve prioritized his life. Anything Meggie needed came first—a home, food, clothing, medical insurance, and a college fund. Everything else, including anything for him alone came last. Thankfully, the department provided him with uniforms for work, so his clothing budget came down to a few pairs of jeans and some shirts—without SFD printed on them—for special occasions. He’d been saving for a new pair of off-duty shoes, but today’s trip to the faire had pretty much demolished the fund.

  Steve handed over payment for the neatly tied ribbons. He felt a tug on his hand and looked down. His daughter’s smile, all sweet baby teeth and twinkling eyes, turned him to mush. “What, sweetie?”

  “Thank you, Daddy.”

  Ah, hell. He choked back the tears threatening to out him as a totally whipped sap. “You’re welcome, munchkin. Want to get some ice cream?”

  Yeah, he was whipped. Had been ever since he’d first laid eyes on his daughter. Her mother had insisted on a water birth, something he’d had no idea existed until she’d brought the subject up, but, as a guy, he figured he had little say in the matter. He still shuddered at the memory of showing up at the shabby little house Theresa shared with a group of her college dropout girlfriends to find the soon-to-be mother of his child naked in a kiddie pool set up in the backyard. For illumination, they’d strung twinkle lights in the overhanging tree branches. Candles of every description sat on tables made from scraps of plywood and concrete blocks, casting a weak, golden glow on Theresa’s distended belly.

  He’d punched the 9 and the first 1 on his cell phone before one of the latter-day hippies yanked the device from his hands, citing some crazy shit about invisible waves disrupting the birthing. After pleading with Theresa to let him call for help or at least let him take her to a hospital or indoors, anything, to no avail, her friends pushed him to the outer ring of hell where he’d watched in fascinated horror as his daughter entered the world via a pool of unsanitary water.

  It was a miracle both mother and child had lived.

  It had taken six months for Theresa to get tired of playing earth mother. Meggie had been his ever since.

  The ice cream vendor looked clean enough. Steve paid for two chocolate cones then walked hand-in-hand with his daughter along the seemingly endless line of booths, eating their dripping cones while checking out the merchandise for sale.

  The Renaissance Faire had been an annual event since he was a kid. It attracted some top-notch artisans, but it also attracted transient vendors, people who moved from city to city across the country, selling their wares. He recognized several local vendors, including Mr. Avery who made a decent living off his paintings of the beach. And Adelaide Morgan, a widow who had a knack for nature photography. He’d often seen prints of her work in the window of the souvenir shop next door to the fire station.

  When they’d finished their cones, Steve knelt. Mentally apologizing to Meggie for what he was about to do, he wet his last paper napkin with his tongue then swiped sticky brown goo from her chin. He stood, glancing around for the nearest trash can.

  “Daddy!” Meggie tugged on the hem of his shirt. “Look!” The edge of panic in her voice told him she wanted him to see something more than a bunch of hair bows. His gaze followed her outstretched arm.

  Holy crap! Smoke and flames billowed out of a booth down the way. He needed to do something, and fast, before the fire spread to nearby vendors. Bending to his daughter’s level, he held her shoulders. “Look at me, Megan.” The use of her real name brought her attention fully on him. “Do not move from this spot. I’ll be right back.”

  Eyes wide at the tone of voice he employed when his words were meant to get through to her, she nodded her head so hard she had to grab at her new halo t
o keep it from sliding off. Screams for help rose over the normal sounds of generators and mood music coming from the various booths as others noticed the flames.

  “Good girl,” he said, kissing her cheek while his need to keep her safe battled his responsibility to the community. She would be fine for a few minutes. This was Somerset after all.

  Leaving his heart standing in the middle of the pathway, he rushed toward the fire engulfing a tent covered in heavy fabrics. An older woman clad in an outlandish outfit matching the crazy décor of the booth stood outside, her face a mask of horror as she watched the flames consume the colorful fabric.

  He quickly assessed the situation as a potential disaster if the fire spread beyond the one temporary structure. Planting his feet, he glanced around for the nearest food vendor where, he prayed, he would find the fire extinguisher required by city code.

  Moments later, canister in hand, he rushed back to the scene. “Is anyone in there?” he asked the woman.

  “No.”

  He pointed the miniature device provided by the teenaged occupant of a waffle cart at the blazing fabric. Everything seemed eerily quiet around him as he struggled to contain the fire with the pitiful excuse for firefighting equipment. Above the crackling sound of flames consuming fabric came the welcome wail of sirens. Help would be here soon. He just needed to keep the fire from spreading. They’d do the rest.

  He stepped back, making room for the crew arriving in full turnout gear, hoses in hand. In the blink of an eye, the fire became nothing more than a smoldering heap.

  “Where’d you get the pisser?” Steve jerked his attention away from the destruction to the man standing beside him. Captain Charles Heflin didn’t sound pleased.

  Lifting the empty container, he gestured to a booth a few slots farther down. “Waffle cart. I thought all these places were inspected for compliance before the faire opened.”

  “They were, but if that toy is all they have in their stands, then someone has some explaining to do.” A moment passed while the two men let the possibility that one of their own had shirked his duties sink in. “What are you doing here?”

  Fear struck at his heart. Meggie! Shoving the useless fire extinguisher into the other man’s hands, he ran.

  “Meggie!” Oh, God! Where had she gone? He pushed his way past the ring of spectators that had gathered once the fire department arrived. The illusion of safety always brought an audience—why, he couldn’t understand. Today, he didn’t care. Nothing mattered but finding his daughter.

  Panic turned his blood to ice as he came to a stop on the very spot where he’d left her not more than five minutes before. Fear, unlike anything he’d ever known before, gripped him.

  “Meggie!” He shouted her name again, his gaze scanning everything in sight, praying for a glimpse of her.

  “Daddy!” He turned in the direction of the familiar feminine voice. “Daddy! Over here!”

  Relief loosened fear’s grip on his feet, allowing him to rush to where Meggie stood some fifty feet away. He recognized the booth as one they’d passed earlier. His daughter had been too busy eating her ice cream at the time to notice the clothing on display, and he hadn’t been inclined to point it out to her. The flowing dresses and scarves reminded him too much of Theresa. Megan’s mother had worn what he called hippy-dippy clothes. It hadn’t mattered to him then since they’d spent more time naked than clothed, but since then, he’d come to associate the style with flighty people. People who couldn’t commit to anything, much less a husband and a child.

  “I told you to stay put.” He blanched, his harsh words dissolving the smile on his daughter’s face. Being the voice of reason wasn’t easy, but she needed to understand the importance of obeying him, especially in a situation like today. To satisfy himself she was all right as much as to stem the tears welling in her eyes, he picked her up and crushed her to his chest. Inhaling her fresh-as-a-daisy, little girl scent reassured him of her safety but did little to curb his anger at being disobeyed.

  “I did what you said, Daddy. But when the firemen came, they made everyone move.”

  “I’m afraid this is partly my fault.”

  A soft, feminine voice strummed along his senses, making his blood sing and his body crave. Like a sailor hearing the siren’s song, he turned toward the musical sound. Hidden as she was in the shade of the booth, Steve could barely make out the woman’s features—about his age with long, wavy hair in need of a comb. She wore a dress similar to the ones on display, which did nothing to ease his mind and everything to stir memories and needs he’d tried hard to exterminate.

  “I brought her over here. She didn’t want to come, but I couldn’t leave her there alone. If the fire…. She could have been trampled…or worse.”

  Ignoring the logic in the woman’s statement, he gave free rein to the emotions threatening his sanity. “She was safe where she was.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Shannon wouldn’t be bullied by this man, no matter how good-looking he was. He shouldn’t have left his daughter all alone in the middle of a public event—for any reason. Bitter experience told her children were too precious a thing to take for granted.

  “Perhaps, but I didn’t want to leave it to chance.” Hastily wiping unwanted moisture from her eyes, she refused to back down. “She was frightened. If you’d been with her, she wouldn’t have needed my assistance.”

  The look he turned her way made her tremble. He towered over her, but he didn’t scare her. She’d faced bigger, meaner demons and lived to tell about it. This one was only dangerous because of the pretty packaging—blue eyes, dark hair, lean muscular build, and a midday shadow hinting at an overabundance of testosterone. Coupled with the angel in his arms, he was lethal to Shannon’s well-being.

  “Lady, I don’t need or want your parenting advice.” The low rumble of his voice sent shivers of awareness down her spine while his adversarial tone struck at her resolve. Once, she would have cut him down to size with a comeback, but the sassy, take-no-prisoners woman she had been was dead and buried. All she wanted these days was to live her life with no hate, no conflict. One day at a time.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply you aren’t a good parent. Meggie is safe. That’s what matters.” Saying it out loud served as a reminder for herself, too. The child’s dad might not be the best parent, but seeing the way the little girl clung to him, the love between them was clear.

  “Daddy. Daddy.” The child patted her father’s cheek, drawing his attention. Shannon’s heart ached at the sweet innocence on display. “Don’t be mad no more.”

  “Anymore, sweetheart. Don’t be mad anymore.” His big hand nearly covered the girl’s back as he supported her so they were eye to eye. “Did I tell you not to move?”

  “Yes.” The curls of her ribbon halo bounced up and down with the motion of her head. “But—”

  “No buts. When I tell you to do something, I expect you to do it.”

  “The nice lady saved me. Chuck almost stepped on me.”

  “He wouldn’t have squashed you, bug.” The big man tweaked his daughter’s nose, causing her to giggle and wiggle in his arms. “How did you know it was Chuck?”

  “He said, ‘Move, squirt,’ just like he always does.”

  “Then I guess it’s a good thing you moved. Chuck has big feet.”

  “The biggest!” Meggie held her arms out wide. “Monster feet.”

  Shannon laughed at the child’s ferocious growl. “Chuck?”

  “Captain Charles Heflin. He’s my boss and my best friend.”

  “You’re a firefighter?” Shannon’s skin tingled. She took a step back, willing the unreasonable fears to go away. It had been years. She should be over it, but deep in her heart, she knew some part of that night would always be a part of her. She could never forget.

  “Steve Rankin, Engine Company Number Three.” He shifted his precious burden to his left arm and stuck out his right hand for her to shak
e.

  Shannon hesitated, then, chastising herself for a fool, reached across the table displaying her hand-woven fabrics. His hand engulfed her smaller one. His skin was warm and calloused, his grip firm. Her heartbeat raced at the contact. It had been a very long time since she’d touched a man. Not since…before.

  She hated the way her life had been cleaved into two halves—before and after. Before seemed almost like it had happened to someone else, except in times like this when she brushed up against a family. Then the before part of her life became all too real—it haunted her. That was the reality of after. Living day to day, putting one foot in front of the other, getting out of bed, feeding herself, existing until something or someone reminded her of who she used to be.

  “Shannon Perry.” She extricated her hand from his. “You were the one trying to put out the fire.”

  “I tried to contain it until help arrived.”

  “I’m sorry to have worried you. I saw your daughter…. I-I couldn’t leave her there.”

  “I’m sorry I yelled at you. You were only trying to help.”

  “I was. Meggie is a beautiful child. If I’d known the circumstances—”

  “You wouldn’t have done anything differently.” He eased the little girl to the ground. “Megan should have told you where I had gone, but I’m sure she had other things on her mind.”

  Little fingers stroked the display of scarves draped over the edge of the table. Shannon pulled one from the pile, unfolded it and spread it across the top so the child could see it. “This one is perfect for your coloring.”

  “It’s so pretty.” The girl’s breathless admiration for one of her creations tugged at Shannon’s heart.

  “It’s yours, Meggie.” She held it out. “Take it to remember your day at the faire.”

  “Ms. Perry, I’m afraid—”

  “My gift, Mr. Rankin. A thank you for your quick response to the emergency as well as allowing me to get to know your daughter.”