Playing with Fire (8 page)

She pulled her hand back and Jake immediately
felt the loss.
Get a grip, man
!

“That could be it.” Her light giggle drew his
attention to her pink, plump lips. Probably pillow soft and sweet
as strawberry wine. “When I saw her this morning she was acting a
little strange and repeating herself a lot.”

“Yeah, when I was there she fell asleep,
mid-sentence.”

A baited silence fell between them and she
bit her bottom lip. Jake swallowed hard and suppressed a desperate
groan when her tongue crept from inside her mouth to sweep the
surface. “It was nice to meet you, Bri. I need to get back to
work.” He pulled out a business card from the inside pocket of his
jacket. “My numbers are on here. Call if you need something or if
Mable’s condition changes.”

“Thank you,” she said softly. “I will.”

***

Liberty shifted her totebag onto one arm as
she stepped onto Shane’s porch and rang the doorbell, still not
convinced home therapy was a good idea. Her body still tingled from
contact with Shane’s earlier in the afternoon. Braced beneath him,
she experienced firsthand his strength and vitality. With her lips
pressed to the base of his neck from the force of his weight, she’d
allowed herself to inhale. God, he smelled good. Clean. Wild.
Masculine. Her lips had separated of their own accord and her
tongue snuck out for a tiny, tender taste of his skin. Salty.
Smooth.

Had he noticed?

By the time she finally made it home, her
panties were soaked and she thought maybe she’d make an online
order. She squeezed her thighs together and rolled her eyes. Toys
would not extinguish this fire.

She released a loud huff and squared her
shoulders. She could do this. Shane needed her and she wouldn’t let
her screaming hormones get in the way.

She rang the doorbell again and then heard a
voice.
Fred Flintstone
? The front door flew open and she
caught the sleepy haze in Shane’s eyes.

“Sorry.” He motioned her inside and closed
the door. “How long have you been out there?”

“Not long. You were asleep, weren’t you?”

His grin reminded her of a guilty
two-year-old. “Dozing.”

“We don’t have to meet tonight,” she reminded
him.

The grin didn’t move. “We have a date.”

Denial made its way to the end of her tongue.
A date? Maybe. “Yes, we do.”

“I thought you said you wouldn’t allow that,
Dr. Prescott.”

His gentle teasing tempted her to toss the
charade to the side and show him exactly how much of a date she
wanted this to be. Desperate to distract her naughty urges, she sat
down on one side of the couch and changed the subject.

“You handled the fire well.”

“Instinct,” he grunted, sitting at the other
end of the couch. “I didn’t need something else to keep me
awake.”

Fred scolded Dino for the tenth time.

“Your favorite?” She gestured at the
television.

“No.” Another guilty grin. “They keep my mind
occupied. Thank God for Cartoon Network.”

“How long have you been a fireman?”

“Fourteen long years.”

She caught a note of dread in his voice and
frowned. “You’re not satisfied in your job?”

“I love my job. I did, anyway.”

“There are ups and downs in every
occupation.”

“How long have you been a sex therapist?”

She paused long enough to let him think he
controlled the conversation. Besides, no harm in giving him general
information. “I’m a psychiatrist. Sex therapy is only a part of my
job.”

“So how long,” he prompted.

“Six years.”

“Don’t you get tired of hearing people
complain all the time?”

“Most people complain because they’re hurt.
If I can identify the pain, the complaints stop.”

He leaned back against the cushions, both
arms stretched across the top. “Tell me something, Liberty.”

“Okay.”

“Who heals your pain?”

“What makes you think I’m in pain?” She
crossed her legs in a feeble attempt to soothe the very pain she so
blatantly intended to deny.

“You had a panic attack at the bachelor
auction.”

“No, not a panic attack. It was very warm in
there.” She gave him her best liar’s smile. “Especially around all
those overwhelming hard bodies.” Maybe that comment would distract
him.

“Maddie didn’t act surprised.”

Okay, so he wasn’t easily distracted. Liberty
fought the urge to stomp her feet and tell him to mind his own
business. The man was entirely too intelligent. Instead, she kept
her professional armor in place. “She knows me well.”

Momentary silence fell between them and she
was almost encouraged that her half-baked explanation actually
appeased him. Yet, the faint twinkle in his now clear, green eyes
told her differently.

When he didn’t respond, she took the
opportunity to redirect the conversation. “How many fires have you
fought?”

“Too many.”

“Was Zach always your partner?”

“Always.”

The absolute conviction in his voice made her
psychological antennae stand at attention. “Why?”

“No reason. It just worked out that way.”

Experience told her he didn’t answer
honestly. “What about Dylan?”

“Dylan partners with Ethan.”

“Ethan Rawlings?”

“Yeah, Jake’s cousin.”

“Did you ever consider another partner?”

“Never,” he answered with lethal
calmness.

Liberty swallowed the
AHA
!that
threatened to escape. “So, why Zach?”

“Zach was the carefree one of the bunch. The
one who took all kinds of crazy chances. He was fearless. Someone
had to keep him in check.”

“Why you?”

He shrugged. “Zach and I bonded earlier. We
were both only children. I guess we were both looking for a
brother.”

“What did your parents think about that?”

“Neither one of us had parents. We were both
raised by our grandparents.”

She locked her gaze solidly to his. “Another
bond.”

He nodded.

“Why did you become a fireman, Shane?”

As their eyes held one another, she knew the
answer before he spoke.

“My parents were killed in a house fire.” She
heard his silent agony as he continued. “I wanted to save others
from the same pain.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Zach’s parents perished in a car accident.
Together we thought we could save the world.”

Her arms ached to wrap his powerful body. She
wondered if his broad shoulders ever tired of the burden he
carried. “You realize that’s impossible.” She managed a small,
tentative smile through her unexpected pain.

“Now I do.”

Mentally exhausted, she decided to call it
quits on the therapy and opted for relaxation instead. She reached
for a DVD inside her bag.

“Seen any good movies lately?”

His brow furrowed. “No, why?”

“I haven’t either. I brought one.”

“A chick flick?”

“No.” She laughed. “Action packed, I promise.
Do you want to watch it?”

“Sure.”

She handed the disc to him. “I don’t know how
to work your machinery.”

Shane coughed and immediately she wanted to
take back her words. Electricity crackled the air between them.

“I’ll be glad to show you.” He took the DVD
and slid it into the player.

A lightbulb flickered in her brain. She could
always recommend another therapist. Right here, right now. And then
she could strip off her clothing, pin his hard, delectable body to
the beige living room carpet and ride him until they were both
saddle sore. Her breath quickened. Somewhere a clock ticked.
Do
it. Do it. Do it
. She grabbed the arm of the sofa and squeezed.
Her knuckles tightened. Finally, good sense prevailed.

She slipped off her shoes, sat in a nearby
chair, and folded her feet underneath her. Once he sank back into
the soft cushions, she reached beside her and turned off the
lamp.

“What do you usually wear to bed?” she asked
softly.

“Why?”

“I want you to relax. Maybe you’ll
sleep.”

And I really want to know
. His body
was probably an inferno of strong, solid muscle. What a shame to
cover it up.

“Nothing.”

Heat invaded her cheeks. Surely she hadn’t
spoken aloud. “What?”

“I sleep naked.”

“So much for getting ready for bed,” she
mumbled. She stood and tried another approach. “Where’s your
bedroom?”

His lips twitched. She fought the urge to
groan.

“Down the hall, first door on the left.”

She hurried to the bedroom and then returned
with a pillow and a blanket. He grabbed the blanket and draped it
across his lap, but not quickly enough to hide the nice, hard bulge
on display. She licked her lips.

Shane cleared his throat.

She plumped the pillow maybe a little too
forcefully then jammed it under his head. “Now, concentrate on the
movie and relax.” She practically ran for her chair.

Shane exhaled a long breath and rolled over
to watch the screen. Within minutes his eyes drifted closed and his
breathing slowed.

Liberty glanced at her watch. Twelve thirty
a.m. She’d stay until the movie was over and then wake him to take
her home. Or, she could walk. The streets were well-lit and
patrolled regularly. Ice spread through her stomach as she mulled
that through her head. On second thought, she could call Dylan.

She snuck a peek at Shane as he lay sleeping,
finally relaxed and peaceful. Behind that awesome body of steel
laid a soft and vulnerable heart. One she was very tempted to claim
as her own. She threw her head back against the chair.
Damn.
Damn. Damn
.

She glanced at the television and attempted
to concentrate. Soon, the movie credits filled the screen. She
stretched and stood from the chair in search of her cell phone.

“Good movie?” Shane’s husky, sleep-ridden
voice beckoned her previous inappropriate thoughts.

“Yes. Did I wake you?”

“No, I think I just realized I was asleep.
Does that make sense?”

“Yes.” She smiled, grateful to distract
herself with knowledge. “You’ve programmed your brain to wake you
if you fall asleep so you won’t dream.”

“Then why do I have nightmares?”

She shrugged. “The human brain is a mystery.
That’s why I suggested you change the ending of the dream. You’re
probably actually awake during the nightmare. Your brain has formed
a habit or pattern of broadcasting the nightmare the same way each
time. If you can break the pattern, maybe the nightmares will
stop.”

He sighed. “I’d rather watch the
Flintstones.”

“Shane, you can’t put off sleep forever. You
need to relax. Besides, I’ve got a nine o’clock session in the
morning.”

She stood and pushed a loose bobby pin back
into her hair. “You have my number. Call me if you need
anything.”

She paused, concerned by the look of utter
terror in his sleepy eyes. “Stay with me,” he croaked.

Her eyes widened; her mouth followed suit.
“Shane, you’re my patient. I can’t —”

“No, that’s not what I meant. Just sit by the
bed until I’m asleep.”

“It’s two thirty in the morning.”

“I know. Three o’clock is the bewitching
hour.”

She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth,
contemplating the consequences of what he asked. Although she was
sure staying would push the envelope of ethical conduct, she
honestly didn’t give a damn. He needed her and she could help.
Besides, he didn’t have a clue how much she really understood his
desperation.

“I don’t think I should walk home in the dark
anyway.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and stood.
“Hell. I’m sorry, I didn’t think.”

“Don’t worry, I was going to make you drive
me home anyway.” No way would she ever consider walking alone in
the dark. Not ever again.

“So if I stay,” she continued, “it will have
to be all night. Can you behave?”

His eyes darkened. “I’m so exhausted, I can’t
see straight.”

While he walked to the front door and checked
the locks, she gave good sense one more chance to stop her. Yet as
he turned, she read the despair in his eyes and she couldn’t
refuse.

“Come on then,” she said, leading the way to
the bedroom. “Toss me something to sleep in and I’ll stay.”

He gave her a weak smile. “I’m crazy,
huh?”

“No, just sleep deprived.”

“I’m just so damn frustrated.”

“We’ll get you through this, I promise. Even
Superman had kryptonite.”

Once they were in the bedroom, he stepped
past her to the bureau and pulled out a t-shirt and a pair of sweat
pants. “Here, now you’re a regular PFD groupie. Bathroom’s through
there.”

“Firemen have groupies?” she asked, closing
the bathroom door.

He chuckled. “Yeah.”

Liberty glanced into the mirror as she
undressed.
You’re borrowing trouble
. She paused. Maybe so.
And if he asked her to climb into bed beside him, she just might.
No, those nightmares wouldn’t have a chance with her there.

She huffed at her giddiness as she unclasped
her hair and watched it tumble down her back. She glanced back in
the mirror.
I look ready for more than bed
. She released a
disgusted breath.
He’s my patient.
Good sense screamed at
her to listen, but her devilish libido kicked it in the teeth and
answered instead.
Who cares
?

She inhaled a deep breath as she pulled his
t-shirt over her head. Clean, masculine and inviting. The same,
familiar, needy ache throbbed between her legs, nudging her further
into the abyss. She stifled a groan.

Anything but relaxed, she tried to fake it as
she stepped from the bathroom. Her thighs tightened and she still
didn’t trust herself not to accost him. She glanced at the bed.
Shane reclined there with his shoulders a yard wide and molded
bronze, braced against the pillow and his arms folded behind his
head. Bare skin glistened in the dim lamplight. His dark eyes
softened as she crossed the room.