Hearts on Fire Read Online Free

cart loaded with boxes of frozen french fries—anything to avoid looking toward the one place he didn’t want to see.
    He sensed her presence, and it was darned annoying the way he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Volunteering to deliver the citation had been a convenient justification for doing what he really wanted to do. See Shannon Perry again.
    After a near-sleepless night recalling the sound of her voice, the shape of her body, and the allure of her scent, he realized the apology he owed her was nothing more than an excuse to see her again.
    Giving in to the impulse that brought him to the fairgrounds, he let his gaze wander toward the weaver’s booth. Knowing she was there hadn’t been enough warning to keep his body from responding to her earthy sensuality. Unaware of his scrutiny, she straightened her inventory, rearranging the brightly colored items, folding and refolding until she had everything laid out in perfect rows and columns. The precise display didn’t mesh with the type of woman he knew her to be—flighty, unfettered, carefree. The dichotomy of her personality drew him closer until he stood behind her.
    She’d gathered her long hair at her nape with a jeweled clip that screamed understated elegance and would have been appropriate in any boardroom or fancy party. His daughter would toss every ribbon and plastic beaded clip she owned for such a hair accessory.
    Shannon stretched on tiptoes in order to smooth a blouse hanging from the front edge of the tent support, giving him an excellent view of her torso. Her sleeveless blouse, crafted from some sort of thin fabric, clung to her curves like a second skin. Her skirt, coarser, though of obvious quality, flowed from her trim waist to swirl around her ankles. Her sandals were standard hippy-issue Birkenstocks that overpowered her tiny feet. The flash of red he glimpsed on her toenails seemed more seductress than earth mother. Another conundrum he had no intention of solving. He knew all he needed to know. She was a transient vendor, traveling with a bunch of crazy folks who dressed in velvet and leather and pretended to live in medieval times. The entire concept was beyond him, but to each his own.
    “Ms. Perry,” he said.
    With a startled cry, she turned to face him. One hand covered her heart while the other grabbed at the table behind her to keep her from falling. “You scared me!”
    God, she was beautiful, her skin glowing from within—like he imagined she would look after an orgasm—minus the frightened expression. “I’m sorry. I thought you saw me.”
    She shook her head. “No.” She straightened, smoothing a stray hair back into place. “You’re Meggie’s father. The fireman.”
    He smiled. “Yes. I came to deliver the final report on the incident, so the owner can begin the cleanup.” Suddenly feeling a fool, he looked at his feet. “I owe you an apology for yesterday.”
    “You don’t owe me anything,” she said with conviction. “I’m just glad I was there when your daughter needed me.”
    Her heartfelt tone made him look up. The startled expression and accompanying color had left her face. She looked…sad…and pale. So pale he thought she might faint. His rescue training kicked in.
    “Are you okay?” Grabbing her by the elbow, he steered her around the table to the dark interior of the booth. He guided her to the nearest seat, a bench in front of a loom, and insisted she sit.
    “I’m fine. Really. I just need a minute.”
    He looked around, spotting an insulated cooler in the corner. Seconds later, he pressed a cold water bottle in her hand. “Drink.”
    She didn’t argue. Lifting the plastic container to her lips with one hand, Steve pressed his fingers to the pulse on her other wrist. It felt strong and regular enough to ease his concerns, but obviously something had upset her.
    “I think we’re even now.” He pulled a folding camp chair near and sat.
    “How do you figure?”
    “I scared you, and you