Susan Mallery.

Hometown Heartbreakers.

Holly And Mistletoe.

Chapter 1.

T he woman sitting next to him clung to his hand as if she were afraid he would bolt. Her eyes were closed, and her lips moved in silent conversation. Long blond hair tumbled over her shoulders and brushed against their joined fingers.

Jordan Haynes recognized the sights and smells of the hospital. He recognized that the faint blurring at the edges of his mind meant he'd been given a strong painkiller. But he didn't recognize the woman. Still, it was d.a.m.n nice of her to be so concerned, whoever she was.

She dropped her head slightly, and her hair slipped onto his wrist. Cool silk, he thought, wishing he had the strength to raise his free hand and touch the pale strands. His arm felt as if it had been pinned down by an elephant, although he knew it was just weakness that made him unable to move. So instead of touching her hair, he turned his attention to her face.

She had freckles across the tops of her cheeks and on her nose. Freckles. He grimaced. Her wide mouth tilted up at the corners. Except for the mascara darkening her lashes, she didn't wear makeup. He would bet fifty bucks that her eyes were blue and that she'd been a cheerleader in high school. She looked wholesome enough to be in a milk commercial. So what was she doing in his hospital room? Her hair continued to stroke his skin. The soft, erotic touch had his mind producing fantasies his weakened body had no chance of fulfilling. At least not any time in the near future.

He tugged his hand free of her grasp. Instantly her eyes opened. Yup. Dark blue. He owed himself fifty bucks. As soon as he got out of here, he would pay up.

The woman smiled. Her pink lips parted, exposing white teeth and a smile so pleased, she might have just won the lottery.

"You're awake," she said, then took hold of his fingers again. The smile broadened. "I'm thrilled. The nurse said you were going to be fine, but I was worried. How do you feel? Any pain? Do you want some water?"

He tried to speak and realized his throat was scratchy. He coughed. Before he was done, the woman had stood up, reached for a small plastic pitcher and poured some water into a gla.s.s. She slipped one arm behind his shoulders, then raised the gla.s.s to his lips.

"Sip slowly," she said.

He obliged. When he'd finished half the cup, he nodded to indicate he was done. She set the gla.s.s on the table beside his bed, then returned to her seat. This time she clasped his hand in both of hers. Before he could extricate himself she leaned forward and pressed their joined hands against her chest.

That got his attention. While she'd been standing, he'd gathered a quick impression of curves. Awe-inspiring curves. She had the kind of b.r.e.a.s.t.s that made up every adolescent boy's fantasies. Right now his wrist nestled between them while the knuckle of his index finger brushed against the base of her throat. It didn't matter that her loose sweatshirt was hardly seductive. As far as he was concerned, they could spend the rest of the day in this position.

Then he noticed her blue eyes darkening with emotion, and he had the uncomfortable feeling she might be fighting tears. Dear G.o.d, anything but that.

"Who are you?" he asked gruffly.

The woman stopped blinking and smiled again. "I'm Holly Garrett." She made the announcement as if that cleared up everything.

He didn't know any Holly Garrett, although judging by the way she was staring at him - as if he'd single-handedly saved the world - she obviously knew him.

Great. Either the painkillers were doing strange things to him, or he was losing his mind.

"And?" he prompted.

She stared blankly for a moment, then laughed. He felt the vibration of the sound against the back of his hand, which was still pressed against her chest. Friendly, he thought. A charming trait in an attractive woman.

"There was a storm," she said. "You saved my cat."

The memories flooded him, and he groaned. The high winds had blown over a tree, sending it crashing through a single apartment above a detached garage. Not only had the unit been partially crushed, but the pipes had broken and flooded the place. When his men had arrived, there hadn't been much left to save. He recalled a frantic woman trying to get through a stuck door. Water had been everywhere.

The two-story structure looked as if it was about to collapse. Jordan had grabbed her around the waist and hauled her to safety. She'd been screaming about her d.a.m.n cat. Like a fool he'd gone after the animal. And look what it had gotten him. He'd been back in Glenwood less than six months, and already he was in the hospital. d.a.m.n.

"You were wonderful," Holly said, her voice thick with emotion. "I don't know what I would have done if something had happened t-to..." Her voice gave out.

"Ah, yeah, well, nothing did, right?"

She sniffed. "Thank you," she murmured, and squeezed his fingers.

"Just doing my job," he muttered. And a poor job at that. He was going to take some well-deserved teasing when he went back to the station.

Judging from the throbbing in his legs and back, he wouldn't be returning to work any time soon. Everyone had seen what had happened, too. He'd found the cat and had made it safely out of the apartment, clutching the squirming furball under his coat. Once they were out on the balcony, the cat had tried to get away. Jordan had been afraid the animal would be injured by the fire trucks or lost in the crowd, so he'd hung on to the cat from h.e.l.l. They'd wrestled each other, and the cat had nearly won. But in the end Jordan had prevailed and grabbed it by the scruff of its neck. Unfortunately in the process he'd lost his footing on the wet wooden balcony above the garage and had fallen off the side.

In front of everyone. He swore silently.

"Anything broken?" he asked, eyeing his leg under the sheet and blanket. He couldn't tell if he was in a cast or not.

Holly shook her head. "No. I took Mistletoe to the vet, and she's just fine."

"I wasn't asking about the cat," he said dryly.

She stared at him a moment, then blushed. Color climbed from her neck to her face, covering her cheeks, then moving up to her hairline. Her mouth formed a perfect circle.

"Oh."

She glanced down, seemed to realize she was clutching his hand to her bosom and released him. "Oh, sorry. You meant your injuries. I don't have specifics. The nurse said you would be going home tomorrow, if that helps." She gave him a quick glance. "I'm sorry we were so much trouble."

The hand she'd abandoned felt cold. He missed her heat and the faint thudding of her heartbeat. Not to mention the close proximity to her impressive b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

"Just doing my job," he said again.

She shook her head. "No, you did more than that. One of the other fire fighters told me it was dangerous for you to go back for Mistletoe. There was some question about the structural integrity of the apartment. And now you're injured. I feel so horrible. If there's anything I can do, please tell me."

He thought about asking her to hold his hand again, but before he could form the question, the door opened and a half-dozen people poured into the room.

His younger brother, Kyle, was first. "Heard you fell off a building," Kyle said, grinning. "Anything to be a hero."

Two of his sisters-in-law pushed Kyle out of the way. Elizabeth and Rebecca rushed to his side. "How do you feel?" Elizabeth asked.

"You can stay with us," Rebecca offered. "There's plenty of room."

His third sister-in-law, Sandy , asked, "Anything broken?"

"I'm still not sure," he said, but was drowned out by his older brothers, Travis and Craig, who offered their expert medical opinions on his condition.

Austin Lucas, a friend of the family, stepped to the other side of the bed and shook hands with him. "Glad you're going to be okay."

"Me, too," Jordan answered, then realized Holly was gone. Somehow she'd slipped out of the room as his family had entered.

He looked at the concerned group of people surrounding him. They talked to each other about his condition and argued over who was going to have him stay with them while he convalesced. The conversation washed over him, a warm, loving blanket of concern. He knew everyone in the room cared just as he cared about them. He loved them, but he wasn't always one of them. Like Austin , Jordan spent much of his life on the fringes, watching the rest of the world connect in a way he couldn't understand.

So he let them argue, because he knew in the end he would do what he wanted. He would go home and be alone, because that was the way he preferred it.