Wildfire (10 page)

Chapter
9

Was the room shrinking? He forced himself to breathe deeply,
inhale the stale, warm air— dust-coated and dry, musty with the smell of old
books, dog and a hint of mold.

Damn, he missed being outdoors in the crisp October air,
feeling the sun on his skin, watching the blaze of autumn colors on the Flame
Sumacs lining the fields. But he couldn’t work at the farm since the machine
parts he needed weren’t in yet. Instead, he found himself stuck with fun things
like paying bills and balancing accounts.
Holy shit. He’d die of excitement
.
Jack groaned and promised himself a beer at the end of the torture session.

Setting his coffee down, Jack flicked on the lamp. Another
thing he didn’t like about the room— no windows. He fell into the large, red
leather chair and looked out over the ornate and imposing desk. Twenty years
dropped away leaving him a gangly ten-year-old, awed and lost, in Dad’s
library, in Dad’s chair, behind Dad’s desk. The thrill of the forbidden
zigzagged through him.

Jack shifted around, trying to get comfortable in a chair
with worn cushions molded to someone else’s body. Lynn was right. Time for a
change.

Lynn. Her voice echoed in his head:
Kiss it and make it
better?
Damn, instant hard on. He shifted in his chair and shook his head.
Bills. He needed to take care of bills. Distraction and finance didn’t go well
together.

Jerking open a side drawer, he pulled out the folder of
current bills, then thumbed through all the ones with approaching due dates.
He'd just scribbled his signature on the tenth check when the phone jangled. He
snatched up the receiver with relief.

“Hi there neighbor,” a woman purred. Katherine Harrington
came from a ranching family with roots going as far back as the Callaghans and
she lived not far down the road from him.

His spirits plummeted. For a moment, he’d been hoping to
hear Lynn’s voice. Ridiculous. Why on earth would she call? Probably didn’t
even have his number.

“Oh, hey Kate. How're you doing?” Jack asked as he leafed
through a few other bills.

“Um, okay,” she said. “Still adjusting to being single
again.”

Memory clicked into place. She’d divorced her lawyer husband
in Dallas a year ago. Shouldn’t that be long enough to adjust? What did he know—
always a groom’s man, never the groom. Geez, what exactly should a guy say in
response? I am sorry? It’ll get better? How about them Cowboys?

“So are you going to the Denim & Diamonds Ball this
evening?” She filled in the silence on the line.

Damn! Jack knew he'd forgotten something. The ball was an
annual fundraiser for West Texas Regional Hospital. “Truth be told, I’d forgotten
all about it.” He winced at the thought of wearing a tux.

Kate sighed. “It’s for a really good cause. All those poor
indigent children. They deserve medical treatment as much as those of us who
can pay for it.”

“True, maybe I’ll mail in my check this year instead of
presenting it at the ball.”

“I’m glad to write the hospital a check, but they're
insisting I show up. I’d rather be anonymous.”

“Same here.” He cradled the phone between his chin and
shoulder, as he returned the file to its original place.

“I guess they want to encourage the other big pockets to
donate.” Silence hung on the line again.

Jack cleared his throat. “Yeah, well have a good time.”

“Would you mind?” Her voice was almost a whisper.

“Mind what?”

Kate giggled, making his eyebrows climb. “This is
embarrassing, but I couldn’t scrounge up a date for tonight.” She coughed. “So
I was thinking, maybe we could go together. You know, help each other survive
the evening. But I don’t want to impose on you.”

Jack bit back a groan. Dang it, he had to do the right thing.
“Oh why not, I’ve got a tux, I might as well use it. I’d be happy to escort
you.”

“You’re such a gentleman,” Kate said. “I’ll have to think of
a way to make it up to you.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“What’s the fun in doing things I have to?" she said
with a laugh. "See you at six thirty.”

Kate must have been watching for him, because she emerged as
soon as Jack pulled up. He whistled softly under his breath. She looked model
beautiful - tall and slender, with spun gold hair combed into an elegant up-do.
The setting sun glittered off the diamonds at her ears and neck and splashed
onto marble smooth bare shoulders. He straightened the lapels of the tux and
hoped he passed muster.

Her look said, admire, but don't touch.

Unbidden, Lynn’s face filled his mind: her impish grin, warm
eyes and scatter of freckles— a face so touchable. Where else did she have
freckles? Probably all over. He’d love to play connect-the-dots with his finger,
tongue. Jack sighed and returned to reality.

Kate’s icy-blue eyes met his, cool and measuring. He
couldn't imagine joking around with her or mussing up her hair. Oh well. She
was a good neighbor. And this was just a matter of convenience, not a date. He
leapt out, ran to the other side of the pickup, and held the door open for her.

She stopped and her smile wavered. “Would you mind if we
took my car? It'll be hard to get in and out of the pickup in this dress.”

Jack nodded, eyeing the clingy pale blue sheath that showed
off her sharp curves. How did she move in that thing? Then his eyes fixed on
the deep V of her décolletage. Diamonds and soft woman. Now that's what's
called Icy Hot.

Her hand smoothed down her side, before reaching into a tiny
purse. She gestured with keys in her hand.

Jack gulped and turned to where she indicated. This time, he
whistled appreciatively loud and clear. The polished-silver Lexus was a beaut
of a car. As he slid into the passenger's seat and buckled himself in, Jack
realized no amount of washing and spit polish could make his pickup compare to
this sleek machine. He breathed in the warm leather smell of the interior.
Nice
.

Kate peeled out of her drive and screeched onto the highway,
interrupting his Zen moment. Damn, where's the fire? He glanced at the clock to
make sure they weren't late. As the speedometer leaned further and further to
the right, the car's gentle purr climbed into a roar that reverberated in his
blood. He pressed his right foot to the floorboard and stifled the urge to snap
at her.

“Haven't seen too much of you lately,” she said.

“Busy farming.” He gulped and swallowed the scream that
tried to claw out.

“All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.”

He glanced at her and caught her looking at him from beneath
thick lashes. Her lips curved into a smile. He shrugged, trying to look
relaxed.

“Got to finish harvesting before …Um, there's a sharp curve
coming up.”

She swerved hard, banking to the left. Jack grabbed the dash
while his heart threatened to run off without him. Maybe he could walk to the
damn party.

She laughed.

He couldn't believe how soft and genteel she sounded despite
the car careening on the road. How could she be so cool, with the car almost
out of control? Missed her calling as NASCAR driver.

“You never did take time for fun,” she said. “In fact, you
never noticed anything beyond your physics books.”

He kept his eyes on the road and clutched the edges of his
seat. “Like what?”

She drove in silence, slowing slightly. “Like me.”

Okay. Call him clueless. “You were one of the popular girls
in high school,” he said, breathing easier. “Didn't think you noticed me.”

“Not notice a Callaghan?” She turned toward him with one
sexily raised eyebrow.

Keep your eyes on the damn road, woman. He fiddled with his
tie. “I remember my dad and your dad came up with that great scheme of sending
us to the prom together.”

Laughter shook her shoulders. “Yeah, I think they even
picked a place for our wedding.”

Heat flamed across his face. “I was mortified and refused to
put you into that position.”

“So you asked that …What was her name? That strange Goth
chick.”

“Kendra.” She'd been new to the school. Her dad was an
oilfield worker who moved from place to place, so they weren’t around for long.
Too new to know all the baggage that came with the Callaghan name. Best that
way. Lynn was new too. New and without any preconceived notions. Excitement
buzzed up his spine.

“Didn't realize until then what a softie you were,” Kate
said. “It was nice of you to ask her. I guess we all felt sorry for her.”

He shrugged and stared out at the darkness rushing by.
Sorry? He hadn't felt sorry for her. Kendra had been like him. They didn’t fit
in. She didn’t look like the other girls and he was a nerd on top of being a Callaghan.

As a bonus, he'd completely horrified his father. Jack
smiled into the dark. Kendra and he had split early from the party and ended up
star-gazing on Mount Nebo, the only-decent sized hill for miles around. He'd
had his first kiss that night. He licked his lips remembering the taste of
spearmint gum. What would it be like to kiss Lynn?

“Well, I have to admit I was kind of disappointed.”

He took in Kate’s sharp profile. Other memories, like the
whispers and name-calling he’d endured for being a Callaghan, the fights he’d
gotten into because of all that, bubbled up. “Actually, given the Callaghan
reputation, I’m surprised you or your dad even considered the idea.”

“Dad came from a long line of bankers, he was always in
favor of a good merger,” she smiled. “As for me, I just wanted a taste of the
tall, dark and dangerous Callaghan.”

Flash bulbs popped, blinding him as soon as they walked in.
Damn photographers. Must be a slow news day or something. Kate’s grip on his
arm tightened. She nodded and beamed, completely overshadowing him. Not a
problem, since he didn't like being the center of attention anyway.

Kate leaned close. “Hey, we might make it into the
San
Angelo Herald
society page or the hospital newsletter.”

Her whisper tickled his ear and Jack shifted to put some distance
between them. “Yay us.”

“Did you see the TV cameras?”

“Kinda hard to miss.” He looked around the hall, taking in
the twinkling white Christmas lights, the giant clear plastic snowflakes that
shone like melting ice and the clouds of billowing gauze.

Someone had performed a miracle. He’d attended plenty of
sausage suppers, auctions and other fundraisers in the hall and usually nothing
could hide the ugly cream walls and the cold glare of fluorescent lights. He turned
to Kate. “Who decorated this place?”

“I think it was that new artist in town, Jennifer Delgado,”
Kate said. She dragged him toward a table.

He made a mental note to compliment Jen next time he saw
her. Little glittery snow globes propped up snowflake-shaped names tags on
white china. Jack pulled out Kate’s chair. He nodded to the six others at their
table— a who’s who of the old money in the area. Hands down the two of them
were the youngest.

The lights blinked until the music and noise faded. Then the
emcee stepped up to the microphone and started talking about the importance of
the fundraiser. When his name came up, Jack flushed and ducked his head. Geez,
could they move on?

Kate’s name rang out into the room. She stood, looked around
and nodded a few times, waved and smiled. Too bad she didn’t have a tiara and a
Miss Whatever sash. Jack grabbed his water glass and took a drink. Kate
definitely handled attention better than he did, and especially well for
someone who claimed she preferred anonymity.

After the applause had died down, Amos Tavistock raised an
eyebrow at Jack from across the table. “A shy Callaghan? Hard to believe. All
the Callaghan men before you didn’t balk from taking credit —whether they
deserved it or not— especially your great grandfather and grandfather. Sharpest
wits in the west, we used to say.”

“Hush,” Elsie Tavistock leaned close to her husband. “If you
can’t say anything nice, keep your mouth shut.”

The older man colored and patted his wife’s hand in silent
apology. Tiny and thin, with silver hair and bright twinkly eyes, Elsie looked
like a pretty bird perched in her wheel-chair.

Jack shrugged. Tavistock had to be ninety if he was a day
and had likely known the older Callaghans. What he said was true enough. Not
exactly complimentary, but true. Jack eyed the empty wine goblet next to his
sweating water glass, and willed the waiter to appear. It was going to be a
long evening.

The band struck up a waltz. Not wanting to hear anymore
about his family, Jack asked Kate for a dance. Congratulating himself on his
escape, he put an arm around her and began to move, only to flounder when she
snuggled up close and pressed her breasts against his chest. After the third
time he stepped on her toes, Kate suggested they return to the table. Relieved,
Jack shepherded her through the dancers, mumbling an apology for his two left
feet.

He stifled a groan as they approached the table where an
opinionated discussion about oil prices, stocks and shares competed with the
strains of the waltz. Reminding himself why he’d come, Jack pulled out Kate’s
chair again and seated himself. Thank God someone had filled his wine glass. He
sipped wine, devoured both his and Kate's chocolate cakes, and felt his mood go
foul as conversation continued on business topics. Oil money constituted a big
chunk of his inheritance from the Callaghan estate, but damned if he'd talk
about it at a party.

Kate jumped into the conversation. “It's depressing. Oil
prices are finally up and the wells are going dry.” Everybody at the table
nodded, much of their wealth also stemmed from oil legacies.