Firefly Glen: Winter Baby (Harlequin Signature Select) by Kathleen O`Brien Page B

around, gathering up his cup and saucer, tsking and fluffing his napkin. Sarah couldn’t tell what had set the older woman into such a dither. Was it because the topic of the ice festival upset her, or was she just tired of being left out of the conversation?
    â€œFlora, do pour Ward a fresh cup. His is cold. Do you think it might be a little chilly in here? I do.” She shivered prettily. “I think we might have let thefire burn down too far. I’ll fix it. I just love a good strong fire, don’t you?”
    Brass poker in one hand, Madeline opened the heavy metal screen that covered the flaming logs and began stirring carelessly. The fire surged in a whoosh of sound, one of the bottom logs collapsed, and embers flew out like red and orange fireworks.
    Just as Madeline turned away, one of the embers settled on the bright yellow tulips of her flowing skirt. Sarah noticed it and felt a faint stirring of alarm, but before she could say a word, the frothy fabric began to blacken and curl. A lick of flame started traveling with hideous speed up the back of Madeline’s dress.
    â€œOh!” Madeline was turning around, trying to see what was happening. She was clearly too rattled to do anything sensible. With a whimper of fear, one of her sisters tossed a cup of tea over the flame, but it was half empty, and managed to extinguish only one sizzling inch of fabric. The rest still burned.
    Sarah began to run. Ward began to run. But miraculously Parker was already there, gathering up the skirt in his hands and smothering the flames.
    It was out in an instant. Just as quickly as it had begun, the crisis was over. Half-crying with nervous relief, Madeline collapsed helplessly into Ward’s waiting arms. She murmured weak thanks to Parker, but she didn’t lift her face from Ward’s shoulder and so the words were muffled and, it seemed to Sarah, just slightly grudging.
    It was as if Madeline resented the fact that Parker,not Ward Winters, had stepped forward to be her hero.
    But Parker didn’t seem to care. He accepted Madeline’s thanks, and that of her sisters, with a comfortable lack of fuss, as if he did such things every day. Marveling at his indifference to his own courage, Sarah stared at the sheriff. He was still down on one knee, his hand resting on a lean, muscular length of thigh, graceful even at such a moment. His careless waves of black hair fell over his broad forehead as he checked the carpet for any live embers.
    Sarah swallowed against a dry throat. Madeline might prefer her heroes to be silver haired, craggy faced and over seventy. But if Sarah had been in the market for a hero, which she wasn’t, Parker Tremaine would have been just what the fairy tale ordered.
    A minute ago, he had joked about how she had saved his life. But he had really saved Madeline just now. With his hands. His bare hands—
    She looked at those hands. Blisters had begun to form on the palms. Everyone was clustered around Madeline, oohhing and aahing over her near escape. Why wasn’t anyone worrying about Parker?
    She touched his shoulder softly.
    â€œSheriff,” she said, trying to force out of her stupid mind any thoughts of fairy tales, to think only of ointment and bandages, aspirin and common sense. “Come with me, and I’ll find something to put on your hands.”
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    L UCKILY , P ARKER KNEW where the first-aid supplies were kept at Winter House. Madeline, who was gluedto Ward’s shoulder, was making a hell of a racket. Sarah Lennox, inquiring politely where the bandages were stored, was no match for her.
    Parker knew he didn’t really need a bandage. The damage to his hands was minimal—just one small blister on each palm. He got more torn up chopping wood every week or two. But Sarah looked so sweetly concerned he just couldn’t resist. And besides, it would give him a couple of minutes alone with her, something he’d been hoping for ever since he