And heard the smoke alarm beep, beep, beeping from inside the restaurant.
An even louder alert sounded in his head as a whiff of smoke brushed his nose. He scoured the lot. Her small blue sedan sat in the same spot it had when he’d left.
“Ashley?” he shouted, hoping she’d already come outside.
No answer.
His muscles contracted and he sprinted toward the porch while dialing 9-1-1 on his cell to call the fire department. He gripped the front doorknob, the metal hot in his hand. In spite of its scorching heat, he twisted the knob. Thank God she’d left it unlocked after he’d gone. The leash snapped on Matthew’s restraint and he shoved into the lobby. Heat swamped him, but he saw no flames in the old mansion’s foyer.
Through the shadowy glow, the fire seemed contained to the gift shop and his feet beat a path in that direction. Flames licked upward from the racks of clothing in the small store. Paint bubbled, popped and peeled on aged wood.
“Ashley?” Matthew shouted. “Ashley!”
Bottles of perfume exploded. Glass spewed through the archway onto the wooden floor. Colognes ignited, feeding the blaze inside the gift shop.
He pressed deeper inside. Boards creaked and shifted, plaster falling nearby, all leading him to wonder about the structural integrity of the hundred-and-seventy-year-old house. How much time did he have to find her?
As long as it took.
His leather loafers crunched broken glass. “Ashley, answer me, damn it.”
Smoke rolled through the hallway. He ducked lower, his arm in front of his face as he called out for her again and again.
Then he heard her.
“Help!” A thud sounded against the wall. “Anybody, I’m in here.”
Relief made him dizzier than the acrid smoke.
“Hold on, Ashley, I’m coming,” he yelled.
The pounding stopped. “Matthew?”
Her husky drawl of his name blindsided him. A gust of heat at his back snapped him back to the moment. “Keep talking.”
“I’m over here, in the powder room.”
Her hoarse tones drove Matthew the last few feet. The door rattled, then stopped. A handle lay on the ground. “Get as far away from the door as you can. I’m coming in.”
“Okay,” Ashley said, her raspy voice softer. “I’m out of the way.”
Straightening, he slid his body into the suffocating cloud. He didn’t have much time left. If the blaze snaked down the hall, it would tunnel out of control.
Matthew shoved with his shoulder, again, harder, but the door didn’t budge, the old wood apparently sturdier than the handle. He took three steps back for a running start.
And rammed a final time. The force shuddered through him as finally the panel gave way and crashed inward.
He scanned the dim cubicle and found Ashley—thank God—sitting, wedged in a corner by the sink, wrapped in a wet blanket. Smart woman.
Matthew wove around the fallen door toward her. He sidestepped a broken chair, the whole room in shambles. She’d obviously fought to free herself. This subdued woman apparently packed the wallop of a pocket-size warrior.
“Thanks for coming back,” she gasped out, thrusting out a hand with a dripping wet hand towel. “Wrap this around your face.”
Very smart woman. He looped the cloth around his face, scarf style, to filter the air.
Ashley rose to her feet, coughed, gasped. Damn. She needed air, but she wouldn’t be able to walk over the shards of glass and sparking embers with her bare feet.
He hunkered down, dipping his shoulder into her midsection and swooping her up. “Hang on.”
“Just get us out of here.” She hacked through another rasping cough.
Matthew charged through the shop, now more of a kiln. Greedy flames crawled along a counter. Packs of stationery blackened, disintegrated.
Move faster. Don’t stop. Don’t think.
A bookshelf wobbled. Matthew rocked on his heels. Instinctively, he curved himself over Ashley. The towering shelves crashed forward, exploding into a pyre, stinging his face. Blocking his exit.
His fist convulsed around the blanket. A burning wood chip sizzled through his leather shoe.
“The other entrance, through the kitchen,” Ashley hollered through wrenching coughs and her fireproof cocoon. “To the left.”
“Got it.” Backtracking, he rounded the corner into the narrow hall. The smoke thinned enough for light to seep through the glass door.
Ashley jostled against him, a slight weight. Relief slammed him with at least twice the force. Too damn much relief for someone he barely knew.
Suddenly the air outside felt as thick and heavy as the smoldering atmosphere back inside.
Ashley gasped fresh air by the Dumpster behind her store. Hysteria hummed inside her.
At least the humid air out here was fresher than the alternative inside her ruined restaurant. Soon to be her entirely ruined home if firefighters didn’t show up ASAP and knock back the flames spitting through two kitchen windows.
The distant siren brought some relief, which only freed her mind to fill with other concerns. How could the blaze have started? Had one of the candles been to blame? How much damage waited back inside?
Matthew’s shoulder dug into her stomach. Each loping step punched precious gasps from her and brought a painful reminder of her undignified position. “You can put me down now.”
“No need to thank me,” he answered, his drawl raspier. “Save your breath.”
How could he be both a hero and an insensitive jerk in the space of a few hours?
Her teeth chattered. Delayed reaction, no doubt. The fine stitching along the bottom of his Brooks Brothers suit coat bobbed in front of her eyes. The graveled parking lot passed below. Now that the imminent danger of burning to death had ended, she could distract herself with an almost equally daunting problem.
Earlier she’d bemoaned the fact Matthew hadn’t seen her in the pink satin nightgown—and now she wished he could see her in anything but that scrap of lingerie underneath her soggy blanket.
“Matthew,” Ashley squeaked. “I can walk. Let me go, please.”
“Not a chance.” He shifted her more securely in place. The move nudged the blanket aside, baring her shoulder. His feet pounded the narrow strip of pavement at a fast jog. “You’re going straight to the hospital to be checked over.”
“You don’t need to carry me. I’m fine.” She gagged on a dry cough, gripping the edges of the slipping blanket. “Really.”
“And stubborn.”
“Not at all. I just hate for you to wear yourself out.” Except after last night she knew just how much stamina his honed body possessed.
She grappled with the edges of the wet afghan, succeeding only in loosening the folds further and nearly flipping herself sideways off Matthew’s shoulder.
“Quit wiggling, Ashley.” He cupped her bottom.
Oh, my.
His touch tingled clear to the roots of her long red hair swishing as she hung upside down.
Two firefighters rounded the corner, dragging a hose as they sprinted past, reminding her of bigger concerns than the impact of Matthew’s touch and her lack of clothing. Her restaurant was burning down, her business started with her two foster sisters in the only real home she’d ever known. The place had been willed to them by dear “Aunt” Libby who’d taken them in.
Tears clogged her nose until another coughing jag ripped through her. Matthew broke into a run. She gripped the hem of his jacket.
A second rig jerked to a halt in front. With unmistakable synergy, the additional firefighters shot into action. Oh God. What if the fire spread? A wasted minute could carry the blaze to the other historic, wooden structures lining the beachfront property. Her foster sister Starr even lived next door with her new husband.
The fire chief shouted clipped orders. A small crowd of neighbors swelled forward, backlit by the ocean sunrise.
“Ashley?”
She heard her name through the mishmash of noises. Turning her head, Ashley peeked through her curtain of hair to find her foster sister Starr pushing forward.
Ashley wanted to warn Starr to get back, but dizziness swirled. From hanging upside down, too much gasping, or too much Matthew, she couldn’t tell. Lights from fire trucks and an EMS vehicle strobed over the crowd, making Ashley queasy. She needed to lie down.
She wanted out of Matthew’s arms before their warmth destroyed more than any fire.
He halted by the gurney, cradling Ashley’s head as he leaned forward. She should look away. And she would, soon. But right now with her head fuzzy from smoke inhalation, she couldn’t help reliving the moment when he’d laid her on her bed. His deep emerald eyes had held her then as firmly as they did now. His lean face ended in a stubborn jaw almost too prominent, but saved from harshness by a dent dimpling the end.
In her world filled with things appealing to the eye, he still took the prize.
“Please, let me go,” she whispered, her voice hoarse from hacking, smoke and emotion.
Matthew finished lowering her to the stretcher. “The EMS folks will take care of you now.”
His hands slid from beneath her, a long, slow caress scorching her skin through the blanket. He stepped back, the vibrant June sunrise shimmering behind his shoulders.
Already edgy, she looked away, needing distance. Her burning business provided ample distraction. Smoke swelled through her shattered front window, belching clouds toward the shoreline. Soot tinged her wooden sign, staining the painstakingly stenciled Beachcombers.
What was left inside their beautiful home inherited from their foster mother? She and her two sisters had invested all their heart and funds to start Beachcombers. She raised herself on her elbows for a better view, sadness and loss weighting her already labored breathing.
“Ashley.” Her sister—Starr—elbowed through to her side. She wrapped her in a hug, an awkward hug Ashley couldn’t quite settle into and suddenly she realized why.
Starr was tugging the wet blanket back up. Damn. The satin nighty. Maybe no one else had seen.
Who was she kidding? She only hoped Matthew had been looking the other way.
Her eyes shot straight to him and…His hot gaze said it all. The jerk who’d walked out on her had suddenly experienced a change of heart because of her lingerie, not because of her.
Damn. She wanted her white cotton back.
CHAPTER TWO
“Ashley?” Matthew blinked, half certain smoke inhalation must have messed with his head.
He blinked again to get a better view in the morning sun. Ashley was now covered back up in the blanket. Except one creamy shoulder peeked free with a pink satin strap that told him he’d seen exactly what he thought when the soggy covering slipped.
Ashley Carson had a secret side.
Something he didn’t want anyone else seeing. He angled his body between Ashley and the small gathering behind them.
A burly EMS worker waved him aside. “Back up, please, Congressman. The technician over there will check on you while I see to this lady.” The EMS worker secured an oxygen mask over Ashley’s face, his beefy, scarred hands surprisingly gentle.
“Breathe. That’s right, ma’am. Again. Just relax.”
Vaguely Matthew registered someone taking his vitals, hands cleaning his temple and applying a bandage. He willed his breathing to regulate, as if that could help Ashley. She needed to be in the hospital. He should be thinking of that, not last night.