Firefly Mountain (22 page)

His mind was ready to suggest that very thing, but his body made him get up from his seat, pull Gini from hers, and lean forward instead. Lean forward until Gini’s lips were right there, moistened and waiting. Patrick wasn’t sure who crossed the last inches first, but wanted to thank whoever had.

Gini’s supple lips teased his, gentle strokes that became firmer, more urgent as their mouths melded. His hand automatically found its way back into that mass of soft curls as her hand caressed the whiskers on his jaw. Patrick slid his hands down to rest on Gini’s hips, pulling her against his body. Her hands hooked on his shoulders as she angled her head up, her lips parting to meet his tongue with her own. Hot and wet, the sensation of having something of hers inside of him brought Patrick to the breaking point. A moan from her throat made fireworks explode in his body.

Gini pulled back slightly to blaze a trail of kisses down his neck. She tugged on the right side of his T-shirt’s collar and nipped at his bared shoulder. Patrick closed his eyes and burrowed his hands into the opening where Gini’s shorts didn’t quite hug her waist at the small of her back. His hands glided over the porcelain skin there. The curve of her body, the swell of her firm butt delighted his calloused fingers.

Patrick was vaguely aware of movement around the waistband of his jeans, but he concentrated on sliding his hands deeper to cup Gini’s behind in his palms. She let out a staccato breath and ground her hips against his. Their bodies fit together perfectly, gears meant to interlock and spin endlessly.

Gini turned her attention back to his mouth, and Patrick drank in every ounce of her. That wildflower smell wafted up from her hair, and he wanted to swim in it for an eternity.

His shirt slid from the security of his jeans, and he ripped his mouth free of Gini’s before she could lift the shirt. He stared at her startled face, her hand still gripping the untucked T-shirt. Patrick backed up a step and searched his mind for something, anything, to say that would erase that shocked look from her sapphire eyes.

Patrick’s cell phone echoed into the frozen stillness, and he yanked it out of his pocket.

“Hello?” He jammed his loose shirt back into his jeans and tried to listen to the voice on the other end of the line.

“Barre, Chief Warner. We got another blaze. I’m short with Claremont out. Can you pinch hit for him?”

“Of course, Chief.”

“Good. I’ve got boys on the scene trying to contain it. It’s the bookstore next to Gini Claremont’s studio. You know where that is?”

Patrick cast a quick glance to Gini, and a look of concern had replaced the startled one. “I can get there, sir.”

Patrick slid the phone back into his pocket and rubbed his face with his hand.

“What is it, Patrick?” Gini reached out, but let her hand drop before she actually touched him.

“Another fire. At the bookstore next to—”

“My studio!” Gini rushed to her purse and dug for her keys.

Patrick grabbed her arm as she whisked by him. “You’re upset. Let me drive,” he said. “Tell me where to go.”

Gini followed Patrick to the front door. Midas circled the foyer, ready to answer the call for help. Gini opened the door and jogged to Patrick’s truck behind Midas. Within seconds, they were all in and on their way.

Patrick hoped it wouldn’t be too late.

Gini stood on the sidewalk under a streetlight with Midas by her side. Patrick had suited up and was currently manning one of the hoses dousing the bookstore blaze. She could see from across the street that the wall abutting her studio was in shambles. If the fighters didn’t get the fire under control soon, her sacred workspace was going to be toast along with all the projects she was in the middle of—the calendar, two weddings, and a christening to be exact. Thankfully, she backed up all her digital photos to an external hard drive and had the negatives for the traditional ones at home. No precious moments would be lost for her customers, but it would mean extra work to redevelop the pictures.

“Gini!” Haddy ran over. The two women hugged each other for a long, silent moment. “Mason was at Jonah’s when he got called in on this. I came as soon as I heard.”

“It’s still mostly in the bookstore,” Gini said. “It won’t take long to break through that wall though.”

Haddy squeezed Gini’s hand and held on. “Do Sally and Phil know?”

Sally and Phil Wedson owned Pages Bookstore. They had actually owned the space next door where Gini’s studio was now. She’d bought it from them about six years back and couldn’t think of a better set of work neighbors. They were neat, quiet, and great at recommending Gini to everyone that came into their store. Gini had done the same for them. Sally and Phil did not deserve what was happening. Not at all.

“I called them on the drive here,” Gini said, “but they’re on vacation in Alaska this month, remember?”

Haddy smacked her forehead with her hand. “That’s right. Well, there’s nothing they could do if they were here anyway. Only the fighters can help now.” Haddy turned her attention back to the flames shooting out two shattered windows of the bookstore. A third burst and the nearest fighters shrank back with the hose.

“Patrick,” Gini whispered.

“He’s here?” Haddy asked. “Where?”

Gini pointed a shaky finger at the fighter holding the nozzle of the hose aimed at the center of the store. She didn’t like watching him creep close to danger. It reminded her of why she avoided firefighters. One freak thing, and Patrick could be injured like Jonah or worse, dead. She looked away as a shudder wracked her frame. Haddy slid her arm around Gini’s shoulders.

“It’ll be okay. They’ll stop the fire in time,” Haddy said. “Look, Patrick is already gaining on it.”

Gini peeked up and saw Patrick guiding his team closer to the building. Her chest tightened, and the studio wasn’t the first thing on her mind anymore. Patrick was. She wanted him to drop the hose and come stand with her. Stand where it was safe. Where the fire couldn’t reach him. Couldn’t take him from her before they’d had a chance to finish what they’d started in his kitchen.

His kitchen. Why had he become so afraid when she slipped his shirt from his jeans? He had his hands down the back of her shorts for crying out loud, and she certainly hadn’t minded. His palms were rough, but warm, and Gini wanted to feel them over her entire body as she touched him everywhere.

Patrick had said he was camera shy, but was he all-around bashful? She’d thought Mason had been bad, getting all locked up around women, but Patrick had been downright terrified as she’d loosened his T-shirt. She’d wanted to run her palms over his chest, feel his flesh against her fingers. Was that so wrong?

Another thunderous blast made everyone scramble back and take cover. Black smoke billowed out of a hole in the roof of the bookstore and for a moment, the fire was sucked inward. It gushed through the roof opening, and the fighters took their opportunity to slay the inferno. Three teams with hoses rushed in and converged on the epicenter of the fire, and soon what remained of the bookstore hissed in a gray after-cloud. It would have to be totally rebuilt. Nothing like books to fuel a fire.

Gini gazed at her studio, still intact, but showing signs of abuse where it met the bookstore. One wall repair and it should be fine. All her photos would be okay, but it had been a close one. To think she’d almost lost her business to the very thing she had to control daily in herself. The universe loved irony. One bad day at work for her and the studio could have been destroyed long ago by fire.

Patrick crossed the street, his helmet under his arm. Gini wanted to throw her arms around him, but knew he wasn’t hers. She didn’t have the right to hold him or have him hold her. She clasped her hands tightly in front of her instead, and Haddy’s arm slipped from her shoulders. Midas got to his feet and wagged his tail at Patrick.

“He’s ready to go to work.” Gini patted Midas’s back.

“He’s always ready,” Patrick said. His short hair was soaked with sweat, and he brushed perspiration from his forehead. “Your studio will probably need only minor repairs to that adjoining wall.”

“That’s what I figured. Was a close one though.”

“Too close.” Patrick looked back over his shoulder to the bookstore carcass. “Mason said the owners are away.”

Gini nodded. “We should board up the windows and roof for now.”

“Some of the fighters have volunteered to do that.”

“We’re one big family here in Burnam,” Haddy said.

“Yeah, with one bad seed who keeps setting buildings on fire.” Gini narrowed her eyes.

“We’ll catch the bad seed.” Mason came to stand with them on the sidewalk. “Another few minutes and we can go in.” He looked at Gini’s purse. “You wouldn’t happen to have your camera, would you?”

“Now that’s a stupid question,” Haddy said. “You know she could live out of that bag for six months, easy. Of course, she’s got her camera.”

“Probably has two,” Patrick added.

Haddy and Mason laughed.

“Catching on quick, Patrick,” Haddy said.

Gini flitted her gaze from the bookstore to Patrick’s face. She wanted to be annoyed at his wisecrack, but couldn’t muster up the emotion, looking at the grin on his face. Even covered in sweat and smelling of smoke, he made something in her belly flutter.

“I’m going to get rid of this gear,” Patrick said.

“Okay,” Mason said. “I’m going to have my guys hold off on going into the scene this time. I want the four of us to have first crack at it.”

Patrick walked off to one of the fire trucks. Gini had her camera out, and she sent Haddy with one of the fighters to inspect the studio.

“You okay?” Mason asked.

“Yes. The studio survived.” Gini let Mason hug her, and it was like hugging Jonah. All safe and cozy. “Too bad I can’t say the same for the bookstore.”

Mason released her and turned to face the store. “If I know the Wedsons, they’ve got insurance up the ass. They’ll rebuild and be back on their feet in no time.”

“No doubt. It’s so sad, especially if this is another arson and not an accident.” Gini watched Mason’s fist tighten and release, tighten and release. She rubbed his forearm. “You’re doing everything you can, Mason.”

He sifted a breath through his teeth. “I know, but it’s frustrating to wait for enough pieces to fit together before we can come up with any suspects. This will be number three within a week’s time, Gini. We’ve never had this many fires that close together.”

“We’ve never had an arsonist on our hands before either. Daddy told me he can’t remember the last time they had a problem with someone starting fires in Burnam on purpose.”

“I did some digging around myself, and there aren’t any records of arson arrests in the last forty-five years.” Mason flicked the flashlight in his hand on and off. “I hate to say this,” he said slowly, “but you getting any kind of vibe off Patrick?”

Now there was a question. Vibes off Patrick? Yes, a few that had everything to do with wanting to stroke every part of him.

“Vibes?” Gini hoped Mason didn’t notice the waver in her voice.

“Yeah, you know, something sinister.”

She couldn’t stop the laugh that flooded out into the dark. “Ah, sinister isn’t a word I’d use to describe Patrick. I don’t know him all that well, but he’s a firefighter. He works to save lives, Mason. Like you.”

Sinister. No way. She could think of several words beginning with “s” to describe Patrick. Shy, soft-spoken, smart, sensual, sexy. Not sinister.

“It’s just that he’s the only new addition we’ve had to Burnam recently, and these fires started after he got here.”

Gini shook her head. “It’s logical, but not possible. Besides, wouldn’t someone lay low for a while if they were new in town? Get a lay of the land, plan their attack? Patrick hasn’t been here long enough, and he wouldn’t intentionally set a fire.”

“You sound so sure,” Mason said.

“I am.” She didn’t know how she knew. She just did.

Mason glanced over to where Patrick was talking with Chief Warner. “You’re right. There’s nothing evil about him, is there? He’s definitely the hero type.”

Gini nodded. Patrick was the hero type all right. The hot, kissable, save-the-day hero type. And damn, she wanted to be saved.

****

Patrick didn’t like the churning in his stomach, the constant rolling. Battling that blaze had felt too much like trying to get his sisters out of their burning home. Like if he didn’t stop the fire, he’d be hurting someone important to him. He’d be hurting Gini. When had she become important? Probably the moment he’d touched his lips to hers. Now he’d had her taut ass in his hands too, and the pull toward her had increased to a perilous level.

He pulled off his gear and left it in the hands of one of the fighters to bring back to the station. His T-shirt and jeans were sweat-soaked, but they were all he had. Running a hand through his hair and accepting a towel from one of the EMTs on the scene, he fixed himself up as best he could. He stopped at his truck for his investigation kit, and was beside Gini, Mason, and Midas in front of the bookstore within a couple of minutes. Huge spotlights had been set up so artificial daylight illuminated the wreckage.

“Shall we?” Mason asked. He let Patrick and Midas go first.

“Look for the candle,” Patrick said. “That’s our best clue that it’s the same perpetrator. Midas,
venez
.”

They traveled in three different directions. Mason to the left, Patrick and Midas straight, and Gini to the right toward her studio wall. Gini began snapping pictures, capturing the carnage on film.

After a few moments of silent searching, Mason yelled, “I found it here, guys.”

Gini and Patrick joined Mason by the service door at the back of the bookstore. He shined his flashlight into a narrow closet. On the floor beneath the charred remains of shelving was a banana yellow gob of wax.

“
Sentez
, Midas.” Patrick pointed to the ground near the wax.

Midas slapped his nose to the ground and sniffed along what was an invisible line to the humans in the store. He barked when he got to the end of the line, retraced the trail, and barked again. Patrick kneeled and ran a finger over a spot Midas kept pawing at.