Firefly Mountain (16 page)

“Maybe someday I’ll let you peek, but I don’t know you well enough to expose my purse to you.” Gini stacked her empty bowl inside Patrick’s and put them both on the ground beside the arbor. She pushed them again and sent the swing rocking back and forth.

Darkness had fallen over the fields and everything was cloaked in that purpled curtain of night. As they swung, tiny pinpricks of light flashed on and off in the tall grass.

“Fireflies,” they said at the same time.

“It must be awesome to create a spark like that,” Patrick said.

“You think so?” Gini’s chest tightened as the swing came to a stop. Creating sparks had been nothing but trouble for her.

“Yeah. It’s like magic. They’re attracting mates with light patterns. Isn’t that amazing?”

If only her talents with sparks were so useful. “My dad used to call me Firefly when I was little.”

“Because you lit up his world, no doubt.”

“Something like that.” Now she spent a good portion of her mental energy trying
not
to light up his world or anything else in range.

Gini rested her head on the back of the swing and gazed up at the sky where the stars were fireflies. She closed her eyes and let out a long exhale. When Patrick’s hand closed over hers, she opened her eyes and rolled her head to face him.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Mmm-hmm.”

Patrick slid his hand off hers, but Gini caught it before it was gone. He stopped moving and let her pull his hand back toward her.

“I should probably go. It’s getting late,” he said.

“Right.” Only Gini didn’t let go. Her mind was working overtime to come up with a way to keep Patrick right where he was.

“Gini?” Patrick scooted closer, and Gini loved the feel of his arm brushing against hers.

“Yes?”

“It’s been a long day. You should probably turn in.”

She nodded but didn’t make a move to get up, to put some distance between them. Instead, she stared at the sky and breathed in the wildflowered night.

“You put flowers on the dinner table.” She looked at him now.

“Seemed like a nice way to finish the table off.” Patrick shrugged and stretched out his legs, his hand still caught under hers. “Besides, Midas insisted. Thought you’d like them.”

“Midas, huh?” Gini grinned. “That dog has class.”

“He’s a charmer.”

“And what about you?” His hand tensed, but she was determined not to let him lock up. She held on firmly. “You’re more the quiet, mysterious type, right?”

“I guess.” His unease was tangible, like something sitting between them on the swing.

Gini sat up and leaned toward him. She watched as he swallowed slowly and looked at her. Enough light spilled from the back porch to illuminate the expression on Patrick’s face.

“I just want to say thank you, Patrick. Is that okay?”

Patrick nodded, and Gini reached over, slid her free hand up his arm to rest at the back of his neck, and pressed her lips to his.

If starting fires had felt like an incredible fever erupting throughout her body, kissing Patrick was that times ten. She felt as if she’d been tossed into a volcano only she didn’t have the faintest urge to find a way out. His lips were warm and soft, outlined with a slight scratchiness that had her insides flopping around. Maple walnut flavor mixed with a primal male seasoning Gini hadn’t allowed herself the pleasure of sampling in so long.

She was cautious though. She pulled back, intending to stop before things got out of control, but Patrick slipped his hand up into her hair and started another round. He coaxed her mouth open and deepened his exploration of her. His tongue was velvet against hers, and Gini’s entire body responded to his kiss, his touch. She edged closer until she could get both hands around to the back of his neck. His other hand pressed at her back, bringing her closer still.

As the control she fought so hard to maintain everyday drowned in Patrick’s hold, the phone rang in the kitchen. Midas barked and they ripped apart, scuttled to opposite ends of the swing. The phone rang twice more before Gini’s answering machine picked it up.

“Gini? Gini, you there?”

“Jonah,” Gini rasped.

“You should get that.” Patrick ran a hand through his hair and scratched at his neck where Gini’s hands had been. “He might need something.”

“Maybe
I
need something,” Gini mumbled.

She got up from the swing, and Patrick grabbed their ice cream bowls. He followed her into the house and went to the kitchen while she grabbed the phone.

“Yes, Jonah?” She took the phone into the living room where she didn’t have to look at Patrick standing before the sink, legs spread apart, head bent, ass calling out to be touched.

“Ma said you and Patrick were investigating the barn at Meadow Cliff?” Jonah’s voice sounded tired.

“Yes.” Gini sat on the couch and studied her bare feet.

“I need to talk to Patrick. I tried his cell, but he didn’t answer. Do you know where he is now?”

“Yes.” Gini chewed on her bottom lip. What was she going to tell Jonah? She never kept any secrets from him. Ever.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing.” Jonah was so in tune with her emotions. As if he were psychically linked to her or something. Came in handy most of the time. Not tonight. Tonight she didn’t want her brother to have any clue about what she was feeling, what she wanted so desperately to do.

“Are you angry? Did Patrick piss you off? Do you need me to—”

“No, Jonah. Everything is fine.”

“Why do you sound weird then?”

“Not weird. Frustrated, maybe.”

“Why frustrated? Gini, what’s going on?” His concern was growing exponentially, and Gini knew that in his condition he should be relaxing.

“There’s no need to worry, Jonah. I’m okay. Do you want to talk to Patrick?”

Ten solid seconds of silence passed before Jonah laughed. “Patrick is at your house. I see.”

“No, you don’t. Now do you want to talk to him or not?” Gini took in a deep inhale. Frustration was turning into annoyance, which could easily lead to anger. She had to keep it light and not be bothered by what Jonah was thinking.

“Did I interrupt something?” Jonah asked.

“Nothing that should have gone on longer than it did, Jonah.”

“I don’t know about that,” he said. “I think you and Patrick could—”

“Don’t, Jonah. Please, don’t. We had dinner, and he’s going home now unless you want to speak with him.” Gini kept her voice low as Patrick put the bowls away. She didn’t want him to leave, but he had to.

“No, tell him to call me when he leaves.
If
he leaves.”

Gini heard the amusement in Jonah’s voice. “He’s leaving.” She took another deep breath, got centered. “How are you doing? Shoulder hurt?”

“Like a bastard, but there’s a beautiful woman here offering me drugs, sponge baths, and such. I think I’ll manage.”

“Only you could have fun with a busted collarbone.” Gini had to laugh at her brother’s outlook on things.

“You know it. You should have some fun too, Gini.”

“Maybe I did. Good night, Jonah. I’ll come by tomorrow, okay?”

“You’d better. Night.”

After hanging up, Gini slid off the couch and went to the kitchen. Patrick was kneeling while Saber rubbed his cheeks over Patrick’s fingers. She’d never seen her cat be so friendly. And while a huge German Shepherd watched no less.

“Male bonding?” she asked as she returned the phone to its holder.

“Seems to be.” Patrick stood and wiped his hand on his jeans. Saber weaved between Gini’s feet and meowed.

“Hush, Saber. I’ll feed you in a minute.”

“I should go,” Patrick said. “
Venez
, Midas.” He patted his thigh, and Midas got to all fours beside him. “Everything okay with Jonah?”

Gini wanted to kiss him all over again for his concern. “Yeah, he’s fine. Haddy is taking good care of him.” She’d probably have all sorts of stories for Gini when they talked. “He wants you to call him when you leave. Said he tried your cell.”

Patrick’s brows furrowed as he reached into his pockets. “I must have left my phone in the truck. I’ll give him a call on the drive home.”

“You want to take the photos of Meadow Cliff with you?”

“That would be great.”

Gini nodded as Saber meowed again. What was that cat trying to tell her?

“Give me a minute.” She disappeared down the hallway and gathered the photos from the darkroom. She stuffed them into an envelope and, thinking of Patrick’s labeled file folder in Mason’s office, wrote “Meadow Cliff” along with the date on the outside.

As she handed the envelope to Patrick, she said, “Thanks again for dinner. I enjoyed every minute of it.”

Patrick jingled his car keys in his hands, and again Gini imagined those hands on her. Would she ever get to feel them again? Would he touch more of her next time? Would there be a next time? Could she allow one?

“I enjoyed dinner too. And the ice cream.” Patrick flicked his gaze to the porch door. “And the…swinging.”

Gini held her breath as Patrick closed the distance between them. She had to angle her head up to look at him, and when she did, he brushed his lips ever so lightly against hers.

Then he stepped away, smiled at her, and walked to the door.

“
Partez
, Midas.”

The dog nuzzled Gini’s knee and left through the door. Another second later and Patrick was gone too.

Saber meowed yet again, but Gini didn’t move. She was afraid to.

If she moved, would the pleasant warmth still tingling on her lips vanish like a dream upon waking?

If so, she was quite content to remain asleep.

Sunday morning with orange juice, a bowl of cereal, a breathtaking mountain view, and a loyal dog by his side. What more did a man need? Patrick glanced down at the photos of Meadow Cliff spread across the table he was using in the small kitchen.

A woman with golden curls and satin lips. That’s the more a man needed. The more
this
man needed. Last night, he’d come to the partially gutted building he now called home and spent at least ten minutes standing in the darkness as he reviewed the evening’s events. Gathering evidence at Meadow Cliff had gone smoothly. Even cooking Gini dinner had been less strange than he’d thought it was going to be.

Kissing her, though. That’s where he’d let things get out of hand. She’d wanted to thank him, and he hadn’t been able to stop at just that. Once he’d gotten a taste of her, all maple walnut and female, he’d become so hungry for more. Gini had been willing to give him more too. That’s what scared him. The fact that all he’d had to do was keep kissing her, and they could have easily wound up doing more. So much more.

After a cold shower last night, he’d stared at his scars in the bathroom mirror. In light of how close he’d come to letting his control slip away, his chest and left thigh looked so much worse to him. The melted flesh fourteen surgeries had not been able to repair would have repulsed Gini. Some spots an angry red, others a ghostly pale white. All peeking beneath a spider web of grooves crisscrossing his skin. He was certain one look at him would have destroyed any thoughts of physical attraction Gini might have had about him last night. She deserved perfection and that was something he could not give her.

Shaking away the pitying thoughts, Patrick focused on the photographs. He finished his breakfast and made a new file folder for the Meadow Cliff paperwork he’d filled out so far. No mistaking that both fire scenes had been started by candles with a gasoline trail. He hated to admit that it was going to take a few more scenes to be able to put all the pieces together. Two incidents were not enough to develop a pattern and uncover a path to the arsonist. In Patrick’s experience so far, arsonists were characteristically intelligent people with a history of mental illness. Often, they were people who had something to hide—something that was eating them up inside. Setting fires was a release for them. A way to gain some power in a life that had made them feel powerless in some way. No one had been killed yet, and Patrick hoped it stayed that way.

He slid everything he’d done so far into the file folder and went to the bedroom. He’d called Jonah back as he left Gini’s, but Haddy had told him Jonah was out cold from the drugs the hospital gave him. Patrick had to listen to Haddy’s detailed description of how “damn cute” Jonah looked while he slept. He’d hung up promising to call again in the morning and trying to clear his mind of Jonah lying in bed, sleeping like a baby.

After slipping into his work uniform—it was his Sunday on-call—Patrick dialed Jonah’s number.

“Jonah, it’s Patrick. How are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling you’re one of my new best friends, saving my life and all.”

“It wasn’t a heroic deed. Was I supposed to step over you and leave?”

“Oh, grumpy this morning, are we? You left my sister’s too soon last night, didn’t you?”

Patrick winced. He hadn’t meant to sound like a sexually deprived grouch. “I left right on schedule.”

“Right on whose schedule?” Jonah laughed. “I’ll leave you alone on that issue. For now. You’re going to the station today, right?”

“For a few hours, yes.”

“Can you do me a favor? My ’Stang is in the lot there, and I’m not supposed to drive because I’m tripping on drugs right now, not to mention one-armed. I don’t trust it unattended down at the station, and I certainly don’t trust Gini or Haddy to drive it home for me. They don’t appreciate what a delicate machine she is. Mason drives like a cop, so he’s out too. And my parents would joyride all over town if I asked one of them. Would you mind bringing it by? Haddy’ll give you a ride back to the station afterward.”

“You’re trusting a guy you just met to drive your Mustang? You sure about this?” Patrick had to admit the thought of sitting behind the wheel of Jonah’s sweet red convertible was arousing. Not as arousing as sitting beside Jonah’s sweet blonde sister, but damn close.