“Damn!” He coughed as smoke seared his lungs and the floor beneath his feet scorched the soles of his shoes. “This old tinderbox is going up fast.”
“We’ll have to jump,” she shouted over the crackling blaze.
Trapped in an agonizing haze of slow motion, he crouched and fought his way through the sea of unbreathable air. Rings of flame consumed the ancient hardwood floor like a fire-breathing dragon.
Fear for Gracie’s safety propelled him into action. He shoved her face first into a corner then picked up the remnants of a dresser drawer. Covering his eyes with a forearm, he heaved the drawer through the window. She raced forward and kicked away the jagged shards of glass that rimmed the frame with her booted foot.
“Hurry,” Dylan ordered. “You need to get out of here.”
“You, too,” she insisted.
“I’m right behind you.” He pressed a quick hard kiss onto her mouth before he grabbed her by the waist and forced her onto the windowsill. Expecting her to drop to the ground, his heart almost stopped beating when she leaped upward like a trapeze artist and grabbed hold of a branch on the giant maple.
Hanging full-length, with her legs swinging beneath her, one of her hands slipped loose. He gasped and reached for her as she lurched forward and latched onto a limb a foot lower than her original target. With the ease of a gymnast, she swung her feet over the branch and pulled herself up to straddle it.
“Come on.” She gestured for him to follow. “Hurry!”
After wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans, he lunged after her. As his boots left the floor, it collapsed beneath him, sending sparks and embers gushing upward. He pushed off the sill and latched onto the branch she’d missed.
In the fiery light, they scrambled toward the vee of the tree trunk. Reaching nominal safety, they collapsed into each other’s arms, pulling deep gulps of relatively fresh air into their dry and burning lungs.
“Thank God you’re all right.” He delayed for one precious second to inventory her condition. Soot smudged her cheek, her shirt hung in tatters, and an ugly scratch marred her neck. She’d never looked more beautiful. He brushed his fingertips across her cheek. “You are all right, right?”
“I’m fine.” She smiled through wobbly lips. “You?”
“Couldn’t be better.” After their narrow escape, all of a sudden life seemed good again. Very, very good.
Flame shot into the sky as the collapse of an inner wall jerked him back to the reality of their present location. He dropped to the ground and held up a hand to Gracie.
She grabbed hold of it and pulled it closer to her face to examine more closely. “Your palm’s a mess. From the tree bark?”
“Probably.” He turned her hand over and slid his thumb across her palm. “Yours too.” He pressed a kiss into the middle of it. “Come on. That’s the least of our worries at the moment.”
Clinging to one another as they retreated to a safe distance, they turned back to watch in morbid fascination as flames devoured the century-old wooden building.
The roof caved in with a giant whoosh of heat and flame. Embers exploded outward, singeing their skin, clothes, hair, and eyebrows. A moment of sadness over the loss of more family history combined with the sooty air to burn Dylan’s eyes with a sheen of tears.
“We should call for help,” Gracie said as they fled to a safer vantage point.
“Not much help for it now,” he murmured.
“There could be other dangers.”
“We’ve had plenty of rain lately, so it shouldn’t spread.”
He led her in a wide circuit around the burning cabin to where their cars were parked. She stayed snug by his side. He nodded, but his mind was someplace else, on something that nagged at him just below the surface. And then it hit him. “Gracie, what do you hear?”
She tilted her head to listen. “I can’t hear anything over the roar of the fire.”
“And a boat engine. Do you hear it?”
“Yes! Out in the cove. Maybe the Coast Guard or night fishermen saw the fire and are coming in to investigate.”
“It sounds like it’s going out to sea, not coming in.”
“Yeah, it does. No help there.” She reached into her jeans pockets and came out empty handed. Her face rumpled in the wash of a fiery glow. “Oh no,” she said, tears welling. “I don’t have my keys.”
“It’s all right, babe. Don’t cry.” He pulled her to him.
“My keys and my phone were in my jacket pocket,” she got out before the tears spilled down her cheeks. “Inside the cabin.”
Tears and Gracie. He never would have thought the two went together, but he sympathized with the reaction. The least little thing would set him off right about now, too.
“Shhh, shhh,” he soothed, cuddling her against him. “Everything will be all right. I’ll get you a new jacket and phone, and your grandmother probably has a spare set of keys.”
“But you could have been killed.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hands as she battled for control.
His own fear at seeing Gracie’s life at risk resurfaced, making speech difficult. “Me? I was more worried about getting you out of there than anything else.”
They looked at each other with sudden awareness. With their gazes linked, he felt their hearts link together too. Click. As simple as that. There was so much to say, too much. As it always seemed to be the case with Gracie, this was the wrong time and the wrong place.
“Call the fire department.” He put his hand on her arm and pushed her away, choosing to end the moment rather than say something inopportune. “My new cell phone gets pretty good reception out here. It’s in the car.”
“It’s been a hell of a night.” Dylan brought the Navigator to a stop by the carriage house near dawn.
“Yeah.” Gracie nodded, too numb and tired to say more.
Staying busy had been the only way she’d been able to keep from trembling continuously. Since she’d been a volunteer firefighter in the past, she’d donned fire gear and helped out when one of the men needed a break. Taking Dylan’s car, she’d gone for food and coffee more than once. She’d administered first aid as needed and answered questions asked by the fire marshal and police chief. She and Dylan had stayed until there was nothing left to do but sift through the ashes.
“You were amazing.” In the darkness, his voice sounded low, intimate. Exhausted.
“I’m going to have to shower for about a week to get rid of this stench.” She rubbed her face with her bandaged hands, ill at ease with him now that the excitement was over.
“A shower sounds good.”
What did he mean by that? If he wanted something from her, he’d have to spell it out. Reading between the lines had never been her strong suit.
“I’ll let you get to it then.” She groped for the door handle.
He swung open the door on his side and stepped out of the car. Dirt, smudges, rips, and tears marred his usual perfection. Damn him, he looked more desirable than ever.
Aware of her dwindling self-control, she needed to get away from him before she threw herself at him. Again. She’d been nearly naked before the fire broke out, but what if he’d been too polite or too horny to refuse what she’d offered? In the kitchen after the pizza, he’d had no trouble controlling his response.
And then, she’d cried in front of him once they’d escaped the worst of the danger. She’d seldom cried since her mother’s death. But she’d let herself fall apart like some weak, weepy female who stood around wringing her hands and waiting to be rescued.
With one kind look or sympathetic word, she’d be in his arms again, and clearly, she wasn’t up to dealing with him now. She’d prefer solitude when she suffered her nervous breakdown.
“See you tomorrow,” she said as if this were the end of an ordinary evening. “Call me before you leave for New York.” She waved her hand in a little farewell, but he moved toward her.
“Gracie, wait.”
Wait? She couldn’t wait. She almost desperately wanted his warmth, the solid feel of him, and any comfort he could offer. Retreat was the only sensible route open to her.