Light My Fire: A Loveswept Classic Romance Page 2

  Despite it being against her doctor’s recommendation, she was fully within her right to check herself out. The hike had become a personal challenge.

  She’d taken short trails for the last month and during the last week she’d been making her own trails, progressively testing her ankle and the newly healed skin on her leg. The previous Friday, she’d hiked to the peak and back.

  She wasn’t ready to admit defeat yet. She looked downslope. She was sitting in a narrow depression on an otherwise smooth drop almost straight down. The hill bottomed out in a shallow but rocky ravine. If she tried to so much as stand, she’d likely take a shortcut straight into it. Even if her ankle would have allowed it, the steepness combined with the unstable footing made a controlled slide impossible. That left a parallel route. But a quick scan to her left and right wasn’t too heartening. It was at least a hundred-yard crawl either way, and the indentation she sat on only spread out about twenty yards to each side of her.

  Her options were quickly dwindling to one. A low, ominous rumbling cut into her thoughts. Cloud cover that was supposed to burn off as the sun rose had suddenly collected into a menacing-looking mass. She shivered, telling herself it was a reaction to the first gust of wind. It whipped up the fine rock dust, making her squeeze her eyes shut. Thunder rolled ominously overhead. She worked to tamp down the whispers of panic trying to edge into her mind.

  Shielding her eyes against the wind and dust, she looked uphill. “You’d better go!” she yelled. “I’ll be okay!” Wet, but okay. She could—would—handle this.

  “I can’t leave you out here,” he called back, his rumbling voice underscored by another roll of thunder. The combination sent new shivers over her skin. Stop it, Jenna. She’d spent too many hours—thousands of them—out in the woods to be afraid of a little thunderstorm.

  A jagged bolt of light shot across the sky.

  No, she wasn’t afraid of thunderstorms. It was the fire-igniting lightning that terrified her.

  “This shouldn’t last too long,” she called out, her voice getting rougher from yelling but thankfully steady.

  Big fat raindrops began to splatter the ground. She had no idea how experienced a hiker he might be, but if he wasn’t carrying rope, then chances were he was an amateur. She ignored the point that she, a highly trained professional, had nothing more than a laundry-bag string on her supply list.

  She tried not to look at the rocky ravine below. If the storm was strong enough and hit hard enough, with nothing but a laundry bag as an anchor, she could easily end up at the bottom anyway.

  “Find shelter,” she instructed, yelling louder over the growing noise as the storm gathered strength. “When it’s over, bring some help back with you.”

  That should appease his sense of duty, get him off the mountain as safely as possible—and provide someone to help him scrape her stupid carcass off the side of this hill.

  What was one more battering punch to her pride at this point anyway?

  Wind whipped up again, enough so she could begin to feel the dampness right on through to her long underwear. Her Samaritan hadn’t responded to her last shout. A quick, bleary peek uphill between wind gusts showed the dark outline had grown smaller. Considerably smaller.

  He was gone.

  Good. She rubbed her arms. He’d be okay. And so would she. He’d get help. If she was really lucky, it would be from somewhere other than Paradise Canyon, but she knew it was the only place of any size around for miles. Was he a patient there as well? she wondered.

  Thunder shook the ground, loosening small surface rock, sending it skittering down and around her. She scraped the curly hairs escaping her braid from her forehead and eyes and pulled the long, thick plait over her shoulder so it hung between her breasts. She grabbed for the laundry bag, stuffing it between her thighs and as much of it under her shirt as she could, hoping to keep something dry enough to change into after the storm. She grabbed for her boot, and was debating whether her swollen ankle would tolerate her putting it back on or if she should tuck it into the laundry bag, too, when a sudden shout rang out.

  She shifted around in time to see a black shadow tip off the edge of the embankment from the other side of the boulder, sending a fresh shower of rocks hailing down on her. She batted them away, a scream locked in her throat as the shadow materialized, through the sheets of rain, into a man. A very large man. A very large tumbling man.

  And he was heading right toward her.

  TWO

  Don’t hit her. Don’t hit her.

  T.J. tried to pull into a ball, knowing it would increase his speed, but hoping it would keep him from blasting her down the mountainside with him. Rocks, small and large, tore at his clothes. Gravel and sand pounded their way inside his sodden clothes and chewed at his skin. The world was a wild, wet kaleidoscope of color and pain.

  Time was a furious whirl that stretched out one eerily long second at a time. He should have gone back for help instead of trying to find a path down to her. She’d certainly sounded tough enough. He pulled his head into a tighter tucked position, ignoring the bites the mountainside was taking out of his hide, instead seeing in his mind’s eye how she’d flinched when the lightning had zigzagged across the sky. He couldn’t leave her there.

  Was he past her by now? Surely he had to be. She’d be okay. She had to be. He didn’t think about what awaited him at the bottom. He’d do it again if given a choice.

  The last thing that went through his mind before he met an abrupt, unconscious end was that he was going to miss his plane now for sure.

  Jenna’s quick lateral scramble had removed her from the direct path of the man’s unexpected descent. There had been a panicked, slippery second or two when she thought she would follow him, but she’d kept her tenuous perch. However, his size and speed had loosened much of the rocks and gravel in his path, all of which was tumbling down in a bouncing rush, despite the now heavy rain.

  She ducked her head as smaller rocks started pinging down on her back and shoulders. She didn’t dare look to see if anything larger was heading her way.

  She also didn’t dare look at the ravine below her.

  She wasn’t too proud of herself at the moment. These last several hours had forced her to acknowledge several painful truths, and apparently her lessons weren’t over yet. That thought made her angry—at herself for allowing fear to gain another hold on her and at the continued onslaught of circumstances that always seemed beyond her control. Hadn’t she faced enough?

  She was still grappling with the harsh reality that her body was really and truly going to betray her and never heal one hundred percent. Her body—its strength, power, and size—had been the one constant and reliable factor in her life, the one thing over which she had had ultimate control.

  She’d also always understood that along with a strong body, one needed a strong mind. She’d prided herself on having both. Now one was gone, or at least useless to her in the life she’d built for herself. But the other …

  Jenna started to tremble. Teeth clenched against the pain shooting from her ankle, she carefully pulled her knees in tighter and clamped her arms around them, burrowing her head as deeply as possible. Her trembling escalated to shaking.

  Dear God, she whispered silently. Please don’t do this to me. Stranded on a mountainside in a downpour in the middle of God knew where, she’d come up against the final wall. And this time her mind wasn’t going to be strong enough to haul her up over it.

  Nightmare images flashed through her head. Toby. Oh, Toby. Then his face shifted to one younger, one so innocent. Jonny. Her eyes burned, and it was only then that she realized they were squeezed shut.

  You have to look, Jenna. You have to look and see if he’s okay.

  Okay? Of course he wasn’t okay! She felt an overwhelming urge to laugh hysterically. No one could fault her for losing it. And that’s exactly what terrified her the most. No matter how strong she tried to be, she wasn’t going to be able to hold it togeth
er. Her mind would betray her too. And once it was lost, she’d never get it back.

  A low rumble reached her ears. Thunder. Maybe lightning would finish off what it had started and strike her dead. The rumble reached her ears again. Even with her head down and eyes squeezed shut, she knew there had been no lightning strikes. Which meant …

  No. He was at least thirty yards below her. She couldn’t hear him. As if to prove her wrong, the rumble returned, then edged into a long, agonized groan.

  Somehow she stilled further. Perhaps her heartbeat had stopped too. He was alive.

  For now.

  Look, Jenna. Find a way to get down there and help.

  Terror paralyzed her every muscle, her every nerve. No. No no no no no no. I can’t. You have to. He needs help.

  She wanted to shut out the rest, but her own mind betrayed her. He’s down there because he tried to help you.

  Like Toby. Like Jonny.

  And, like them, he’d die for his trouble.

  The brutal truth sliced into her like a hot knife, its blade dull enough to rend jagged tears in her psyche. She shook uncontrollably. Yes! she wanted to scream. Dead. All dead. I couldn’t save Toby or Jonny. I can’t save this stranger. Sobs began to choke her. I can’t even save me.

  “Help … me.” The guttural words crawled up the side of the ravine and burrowed into what was left of her mind.

  A sudden fury took hold of her. Like a wildfire ignited by a single bolt of lightning, the rage grew fast and swift, overwhelming the fear, the hate, the guilt, the pain. She threw back her head, opened her hot, dry eyes to the sky, and shouted at the top of her lungs. “No! I can’t do this anymore!”

  Rain blinded her. Then the ground shifted out from under her. A second later she was sliding downward, fast and out of control. Sliding toward the rock-strewn ravine. Sliding toward the man who’d tried to save her when he should have saved himself.

  Sliding uncontrollably toward her fate.

  She closed her eyes and gave in to the fall, wondering why she’d ever fought it in the first place.

  T.J. carefully lifted his head, then wished he hadn’t. He had no idea how badly he was hurt, or exactly what parts of him were damaged.

  He’d been out, but for how long, he had no idea. Loud groaning, his own probably, had stirred him awake. He was happy to be alive, though perhaps relieved was a better word. Nothing about him was happy at the moment. Move, he had to move. He shifted his chin. Yep, he was alive all right, but he’d rather not be awake.

  But there was some reason why.… His mouth suddenly filled with sandy gritty water. Oh yeah. The ravine was filling up with water. He either had to move or drown.

  Move it out, Delahaye. He hadn’t survived the fall—survive being a relative term at the moment—to drown in a puddle. But the puddle was rapidly becoming a stream. And he knew enough about these canyons to know that a stream could easily become a raging river during a flash storm.

  With no time to assess damage or the potential for aggravating it by moving the wrong way, T.J. managed to shift the arms trapped under him so that his palms were pressed down. Sharp rocks pierced his already abraded skin as he pressed up, but his legs failed him at the last moment, sending him onto his side with a loud grunt of pain.

  At least with this side of his face up, the rain washed the grit away. He blinked his eyes open. Then blinked again. There was something … a dark shape.…

  He couldn’t lift his hand to wipe his face, and shaking the water off was a no go if he wanted to stay conscious.

  Then he realized that the dark shape was growing in size, and that it was headed right at him.

  Apparently he hadn’t missed her after all.

  He had little time to brace himself for the impact. He rolled forward and lifted his arm. At least he could break her fall, he thought. A second later his world exploded in a fresh rainbow of pain as she barreled into him.

  T.J. fought against the black void that threatened again and opened his eyes despite his fierce desire to do otherwise. He was partly on his side, partly on his back. Judging by the pressure bearing him deeper into the jagged surface, his distressed damsel was sprawled on top of him.

  Something that felt like wet hair was clinging to his head and neck, half covering his face. He inched his hand up to peel it off. She lifted her head as his hand encountered sodden fabric.

  He blinked away the rain and found deep brown eyes staring into his.

  “You’ve got my underwear on your head.”

  Trapped on a mountainside, injured, about to drown in a flash flood, T.J. smiled. So serious, his damsel. He raked the white cotton panties off his face. “If I knew you were going to drop in,” he said with a grimace of pain, “I would have picked up first.”

  “You’re hurt.”

  She hadn’t returned his smile, which faded at her accusatory tone. “Funny how that happens when you take a header down a mountain. No gold medal for me today.”

  Her so-serious eyes narrowed, wet eyelashes jutting out in spikes like angry exclamation points. “You think almost dying is funny?”

  He had no idea why she was angry with him. Shock perhaps. “I’ve almost died lots of times,” he said, the expression on his face smooth and open. He knew he took some getting used to, but her reaction was unique. “You have to develop a sense of humor about it after a while, otherwise you’ll go nuts.”

  Her look made it clear she thought he’d reached that pinnacle already.

  “Are you okay? Two falls in one day—”

  “Peachy.” He hadn’t missed the shadow that had crossed her rain-drenched features. She sounded rough. Very rough. And not remotely peachy. How much pain was she trying to hide? Her face was pale, but the chill of the rain made it difficult to determine normal skin tone. Long strands of hair clung to her face and neck, the rest was pulled back into a braid that was long enough to be trapped between them. Blond, he guessed. Maybe a light brown. There were no obvious cuts or abrasions on her head or neck, which was all of her he could see in his current position.

  Her face was broad, her hairstyle emphasizing the smooth, even features of her no-nonsense nose and firm mouth and chin. No sharp edges, he thought, then swallowed a smile. Unless he counted the ones in her eyes and on the sides of her tongue. Not your standard beauty, rain-soaked or otherwise, T.J. decided, but compelling. Most definitely compelling.

  He shivered as water rushed over his legs and between their bodies. “We have to get out of this ditch before we drown.”

  “Yeah, that would ruin the day, wouldn’t it.”

  A lot had happened to her in a short period of time, yet there was no panic in her expression or tone. His experience with hostage removal had taught him people usually fell into two categories: those who focused on how to end their incarceration and those who focused on how they got incarcerated in the first place. He was betting she was the former.

  “Problem is,” he went on, “I’m not sure I can move without some help. Are you injured? Can you move?”

  She hadn’t moved more than her mouth since she’d landed on him. “My ankle’s out,” she stated unemotionally. “Everything else is minor.”

  He was impressed with her control, but that didn’t diminish his concern. She seemed almost detached from what was happening. Perhaps she’d had some sort of prior climbing experience.

  Before he could suggest a plan, she was looking around, assessing the situation. “It’ll be easier on both of us if I go over you and up the other side,” she said, her eyes scanning the incline of the opposite side of the ravine. It wasn’t too steep and leveled off about twenty yards up. If they could get to the top, they’d be out of the direct danger of the raging river the ravine was swiftly becoming.

  “Can you take more of my weight?” she asked. Blinking the rain from her eyes, she ran a quick gaze over him.

  He could feel her weight stretched out over most of him. He was six-seven, which meant she wasn’t a small woman. He found himself bemus
ed by that idea.

  “You ready?” Her eyes were on his again, steady, but otherwise impossible to read.

  “You need me to lift you?” He tried to work his other hand free, but it forced his weight back too much. He winced and swore under his breath.

  “Don’t move,” she ordered. “I’m going to reach across you and use that large rock above your shoulder for leverage. It’s wedged in deep and shouldn’t move. Once I have a good grip, I’ll use my good leg to push myself off of you.”

  “Do it,” he said, then braced himself.

  To her continued credit, she didn’t question him. A few excruciating seconds later she was off of him and seated at an awkward angle on the sharp incline of the ravine. If the move had caused her pain, she hadn’t let it show by so much as a grimace. But it was clear she was favoring her right leg.

  The rain wasn’t abating at all, and neither was the rising water. It now rushed over his waist. Slowly, carefully, T.J. pushed himself up on one arm, rapidly assessing his condition as he did.

  “My left knee is shot,” he said between gasps of air. His right shoulder wasn’t too happy with him either. He looked up to her, his smile more grimace than grin. “Some rescue attempt, huh?”

  He was surprised and disappointed to see the banked fury return to her eyes. He’d expected relief, concern, even fear. He didn’t know what to make of her. Now was not the time to wonder, though. The water was rising fast. He could feel the pull of it on his legs.

  “Can you get higher up the side? I need some leverage to pull myself out of here.”

  Without comment, she efficiently did as he asked. He noted she did her best not to send more rocks skittering down on him. He turned away from her and concentrated on hoisting himself out of there. The angle at which he’d landed made using his good arm impossible. Typical. He clenched his teeth, reached up for a good hold on the same jutting rock she’d—