Authors: Aliyah Burke
in there. Turning towards the table, Dezarae sent the man sitting there a nervous smile, wishing he wouldn’t
stare at her so.
She dished up the food silently and put the plate in front of him. Turning her attention to her food,
not the bronzed torso muscles he had. Concentrating on keeping her gaze firmly on the plate in front of her,
she began to eat.
Stay firm and concentrate on food. Girl, you know he is firm.
“Where are we?” he asked her as they were finishing up dinner.
“The middle of nowhere. You are about twenty miles from a town called Shadyville. In Montana.”
9
CONNELLY’S FLAME
Aliyah Burke
Shadyville.
Why did that name seem familiar to him?
Why can’t I remember anything?
“Damn it,”
he swore as his fist pounded on the tabletop.
Unable to help it, Dezarae jumped and squealed, an act that brought him to a halt.
“Jesus, I did it again. I don’t mean to scare you. I am just so frustrated that I can’t remember
anything. I try but it is all just a complete blank.” His frustration was palpable even to her.
“I’m sorry. I am just not used to having a…a…a…” She had no idea of how to finish that sentence.
For the first time a half smile cracked that face. Firm lips twitched as he filled it in, “A man in the
house.” He was glad she wasn’t.
“Well…yes, I guess.”
“Or a white man?” His eyes grabbed hers and forced a connection.
She nodded and said candidly, for if there was one thing about Dezarae Phoenix Kerry, it was
honest. “Especially not a white man.”
Even more, not one sporting a freaking rebel flag tattoo.
“Do you have something against white men?” The blunt question was asked as charcoal gray held
dark chocolate.
Please say no.
“Not that I’m aware of. Have something against black women?” she asked in return.
On the other
hand, do I want to know if you do?
“No, not at all.”
If I ever did, I don’t remember it and I don’t now. I wish she wasn’t glancing at my
tattoo so often.
“Well, at least we got that out of the way. I have to tell you,” she said as she cleared off the dinner
dishes and set down a blueberry cobbler and a pot of coffee. “I don’t know if I will be able to take you to
town tomorrow if this storm keeps going the way it is.”
“And you don’t mind me being here?” His head cocked to the side as he accepted the helping of
warm cobbler and a hot mug of coffee.
“I’m not going to send you out in the storm, if that is your concern. You didn’t even have a coat on.
And, while I don’t know you from a hole in the ground, I don’t want to send you to your death.”
“That’s good, ‘cause it would severely hamper our courting,” he said with a bone-melting grin.
A brilliant smile filled her face. “Our courting?”
“Well, I don’t always let women undress me down to my boxers, and let me sleep in their bed. So I
figure we must be courting.”
Her body shook at some images her mind painted for her. “That is an interesting piece of logic you
have there. What makes you think you I am interested in being courted by you?” She arched her brows and
stared at the handsome stranger across from her.
He took a bite of the cobbler, washed it down with a swig of the coffee she had placed there, and
never once released her gaze. “You just said you didn’t have anything against white men.”
“I don’t, but it doesn’t mean you are my kind of man, does it?” she questioned him.
There was a flash of something foreign in his eyes as they moved over her upper torso. “Oh, I’m
your kind of man. I can see how you react to me,” he purred as he drew the fork slowly out of his firm
mouth.
He is a tease.
“So you are handsome, big deal.” It was a struggle to keep her true feelings off her
face.
He shrugged. “Glad you find me handsome, and I know you think it is a big deal.” He winked
suddenly. “I think you are enchanting.”
“You don’t know me.”
“True. Tell me about you.” His request came out more like an order.
Standing, she removed the dishes and put them in the dishwasher, got it set, and turned it on. “It’s
late; you should get some sleep.” She put her hand out, gesturing for him to leave the kitchen first.
He acquiesced. His body was exhausted still, so he didn’t put up much of an argument. As he got to
the entrance to the bedroom, he stopped suddenly. Turning to face the beautiful woman trailing him, he
reached out one tanned hand and caressed her face. “Thank you for all you are doing for me.”
“Anybody would have done it,” she said, moving back, uncomfortable with the feelings his simple
touch evoked in her.
I don’t think they would have.
“Tell me something.” This time it was a request, not a command.
“If I tell you what you want to know, then will you go to bed?” Dezarae questioned.
10
CONNELLY’S FLAME
Aliyah Burke
“I’ll even let you tuck me in,” came his saucy reply.
How nice that could be.
“Ask your question.”
“What is your full name?” One hand reached for her before clenching and remaining at his side.
“Dezarae spelled D-E-Z-A-R-A-E, Phoenix Kerry. Now, get some sleep.” It was a gentle push that
she gave him to send him in the door. “Good night.”
Both trembled from the contact but neither responded to it. “Night.”
My little firebird.
He walked
into the room, stopping by the bed to turn around and meet her gaze. “Sure you don’t want to tuck me in?”
“I’m sure a strong man like yourself can handle that,” she smirked, liking how his teasing brightened
his whole persona, making him less severe.
“Glad to you know also think I am strong,” he teased back.
Dezarae refused to answer him, just left the room with a shake of her head.
The digital readout on the clock said 3:00 in the morning. Body not as sore but feeling just as
disoriented, the man who had no name got out of the soft bed and padded silently to the door. His gray eyes
easily adjusted to the dark as he stuck his head out into the hallway.
There was another door to his right and he cracked it open, looking for his hostess. Nothing in there
but books and papers that were scattered all over the room. He walked past the bathroom door and, as he
walked into the living room, he found her.
She lay on the couch sound asleep. A blanket covered her from toes to chin.
I can’t believe she took
the couch and let me have her bed.
A gentle smile crossed his face as he moved silently into the room and
knelt down beside her.
“Thank you for saving my life, Dezarae Phoenix Kerry. Thank you.” he whispered as his hand trailed
down the side of her sleeping face, almost—but not quite—touching the skin that was smoother than silk.
When she moaned softly and tried to burrow deeper into the couch, he reacted. With ease, he slid his
arms under her and lifted her off the couch and carried her back down the hall to place her in her own bed.
She never woke.
After tucking her in, he brushed some wayward curls off her face, staring at her like he couldn’t get
enough. “Sleep well, my little firebird, sleep well.” Before he did something he couldn’t take back, the man
with the gray eyes left the room, carrying the blanket she had used on the couch, and took her place.
11
CONNELLY’S FLAME
Aliyah Burke
Dezarae woke to the sound of a tree branch snapping.
Well, we either have an ice storm or it is still
snowing out.
Sitting up, it took a second to realize that she was in her own bed. “What the hell?” Turning on
the bedside light, she glanced around.
There was no stranger in her room. She wore the exact clothes she had been wearing when she went
to sleep on the couch.
The couch.
So why was she here?
Did I sleepwalk?
Swinging her feet to the floor she slipped into her slippers and headed for the door. The clock had
6:30 displayed on it.
Where is my mystery man?
A bit hesitant, she moved up the short hallway and stopped.
Sleeping on her couch, which was too small for his big frame, was her gray-eyed southern stranger.
He was crammed onto her furniture in a way that didn’t look very comfortable.
Her dark eyes started at his feet, moving up until she halted for staring back at her were those intense
gray ones of his. Blinking rapidly, Dezarae moved into the living room, stopping before him.
“What are you doing out here?” she questioned.
“Watching you watch me,” he replied smoothly.
Dezarae tried to ignore the spread of heat in her cheeks. “I mean, I went to bed here. I left you in my
bed.”
Those eyes darkened as he muttered, “My little firebird, if we were in bed together you wouldn’t be
leaving.” In a louder tone that she could hear he said, “I moved you back there around three.” He sat up
exposing his muscled torso to her, which made her knees weak until her eyes hit that tattoo. “You shouldn’t
have to give up your bed for me.”
She was still having a hard time pretending she hadn’t heard his comment. But she had and now that
image was burned into her brain, overriding her aversion of the tattoo on his chest. “I took the couch because
I can fit comfortably on it,” Dezarae stated.
“I’ve slept in way more uncomfortable places than a couch that I am too long for.”
“Really?” came the skeptical question.
“Yes, really,” he assured her.
“Great, that’s great!” she said, her dark eyes wide and her hands spread.
Raising a dark brow, he responded sarcastically, “Nice to know my uncomfortable sleeping
situations are amusing to you.”
Dezarae shook her head as she crouched down in front of him, her darker hand covering his lighter
one. “No, that’s not it. Not at all. You remembered.”
His eyes widened as the truth of her words sank in. “I did. I did!”
“Anything else?”
“No,” he said, disappointed even as his body reacted to her touch. “I don’t know how or where I
know it from, but I know for a fact I have slept in worse conditions. It’s just not clear.”
“Well,” Dezarae spoke as she stood and retrieving her hand. “It’s a start. Let’s go see if we can find
you something to wear.”
‘Cause I keep looking at your chest and I may find myself looking at that flag in a
whole different light. Then again, I already do.
Dezarae led him down the hall towards her spare room. She had to lead or all she would think about
would be how good he looked. Not that walking in front of him changed those images.
It worked out, though, because her visitor was enjoying the view of her in front of him. As he ogled
her, she opened the closet to show him a few stacks of folded clothes. “I think you should find something in
here that will fit you.” Dezarae backed up so he could walk in. “I’m gonna make some breakfast. Feel free to
use the shower; there are clean towels in the cabinet.”
Why in the hell do you have men’s clothes in your home? Why, for that matter, do I care?
“Thank
you.” He turned towards her in time to catch her heated glance as her dark gaze took in his half-naked body.
“You’re welcome.” Then she was gone.
****
12
CONNELLY’S FLAME
Aliyah Burke
While the quiche cooked, Dezarae bundled up to go outside. There were still practically whiteout
conditions. There hadn’t been a snow in the area like this in years.
Standing on her porch, she realized there was no way she was going to town. She could get to her
workshop and CB the sheriff at least. That way they would know she had a visitor and would be aware of the
accident.
Grabbing the rope, she made her way slowly across her yard. It was a bit of a struggle to force open
the side door against the seemingly gale-force winds but soon she was in.
She hit the lights, silently thanking her foresight in having backup generators installed so the
building was always warm, and headed for the CB radio that was at the end opposite to where she was, by
the main doors.
Turning it on, she began transmitting. “Sheriff, you out there? This is Phoenix, come back.”
A very deep voice reached her waiting ears. “Phoenix, you okay up there, girl?”
“Fine, Dale, fine. Look last night on my way home I passed an accident. There is nothing left of the
car except pieces. There was a survivor. He’s here w—”
“He? Damn it, Dez, you know better than that. Who is he?”
Dezarae smiled. Sheriff Dale Ship was her surrogate father. He was sixty and didn’t look a day over
forty. He took her well-being very seriously.
“As I was saying,” Dezarae began again. “He is here with me. He is about six four, one hundred
ninety, dark brown hair cut short and gray eyes. Oh, and a tat, an anchor, and a chain sitting on a rebel flag.”
“Why are you telling me this? Are you sure it was a rebel flag?”
“I know what a rebel flag looks like. Yes, I am sure. I am telling you because he doesn’t remember
his name. He had a head wound and I didn’t find any form of identification on him. See if anyone reports a
description like that. I will check in with you later today.”
“One more thing.”
“Go ahead.” She waited for him to say what he needed to.
He walked through the house looking for the woman who had taken him in. Showered and dressed in
a pair of clothes he found in the closet, he wandered around her home.