Trial by Fire Read Free

Probably.
    Still, she ran. Across the street, up the long brick pavestone drive. Plunging into the artfully sculpted hedges near the front door, she found the water spigot, hose still attached from spraying the hanging baskets yesterday. Joan’s petunias will be fried. She shook her head. How frigging stupid to think of flowers.
    Even more stupid to fight a fire with an effing garden hose, Katherine Frances. But, dammit, the stubborn, take-charge side of her personality demanded she do something! Unfortunately, listening to the evil twin usually landed her ass in hot water.
    She cranked the faucet to full blast and wrestled the hose out of the bushes, onto the porch. Momentary panic seized her. The house key? Her fingers dug into her front pocket, searching. There!
    Tucking the hose under one arm, she flipped through the ring to the key the Hargraves had given her, plunged it into the lock with shaking hands, and turned. Testing the knob with her fingertips, she winced. Damn. Using the edge of her shirt, she grabbed and turned the knob, then threw the door wide. A rush of heat and smoke seared her face in greeting, stinging her eyes.
    Blinking, she stepped into the wide marble foyer and took in the scene at a glance. She’d never seen a house fire up close and personal, didn’t know the first thing about the technicalities, but it seemed a fire shouldn’t start in the middle of the room. On the furniture. What, like the sofa just spontaneously combusted?
    Strange, but there wasn’t time to stand around analyzing the situation. Flames were crawling across the carpet from the center of the room outward, chewing a path of destruction. The sofas, draperies, and staircase were fully engulfed, fire licking toward the ceiling.
    Kat squeezed the spray nozzle, pointing the stream at the carpet first, sweeping back and forth in hopes of saturating the material enough to stop the spread of flames along the floor. Not good enough. Thick smoke billowed around her, the fire consuming lamps, framed photos. Frantic, she turned the water toward the drapes. More smoke, and the inferno leapt, hissing and sizzling like a furious beast. Mocking her puny efforts.
    “Shit!”
    From outside, the shrill scream grew louder. Thank God! The heat was unbearable. Stifling. She coughed, glancing around to the open door, now hardly visible through the smoke. Flashing red lights approached, cutting into the murky pea soup. She could’ve wept with relief. Admitting defeat, she dropped the hose and stumbled outside onto the porch.
    Precious air hit her scorched face, but when she tried to suck in a deep breath, a cruel, unseen fist twisted her lungs. She coughed again, clutching her chest. Her head spun. So did the big truck and ambulance pulling up the drive.
    Men spilled from the vehicles like ants, a couple scurrying to grab and unroll a hose. Their images blurred through the tears welling in her eyes as she sputtered. Bodies ran toward the house. She wiped her face, took a step forward. Blackness threatened, curling the edges of her vision.
    Two firefighters, maneuvering the large hose, rushed past and into the burning house. A hand grabbed her upper arm.
    “Ma’am? Are you all right?”
    The deep baritone voice sent a thrill to every nerve ending. A smooth shot of Jack Daniel’s after a long dry spell, warming her fingers and toes. Other places, too. Good God, Katherine Frances, get real. Raising her head, she found herself gazing at the broadest chest she’d ever seen, even allowing for the bulk of his coat.
    “Ma’am?” He pressed close, worry evident in his tone.
    Kat tilted her chin up. Way up. A giant of a man roughly the size of an aircraft carrier towered over her, saying something else. Shadowed under the wide brim of his hat, she noted the line of his strong, square jaw. Full, sensual lips. Dark eyes.
    “I’m . . . fine,” she croaked. And promptly ruined the assertion by hacking up a lung. The black edges spiraled inward,