Wildfire (10 page)

“I’m here to speak to Amanda.”

Sensing that this was the time to call an end to their verbal circling, Amanda intervened. “I think we’ve pretty well covered everything, Bob. I’ll get back to you tomorrow, all right?”

“Fine. I’ll look forward to hearing from you.” A stiff nod was the only acknowledgment he gave Brady, who stepped aside to let him pass.

“Drop by any time, Mason,” Brady invited. “Mandy and I are always happy to see you.”

Amanda shut the door before Brady could wave any more red flags.

“Don’t expect to get rid of me that easily,” he warned her.

“It’s encouraging to know that your self-preservation system is warning you that I’d love to get rid of you.”

“Is that all you’d love to do to me, Mandy?” His question was accompanied by one of those devilishly naughty looks that he specialized in.

“You’re impossible!”

“Totally,” he agreed with a grin. “Is dinner ready? I’m starved.”

“You may be starved, but I’m not sure you deserve to be fed after that performance.”

“You would deny a man in blue his daily meal?” Brady questioned in horror.

“What do you think?”

“I think I’d better be on my best behavior if I want to sample your culinary delights.”

“That’s better,” she approved. “And thank you for the flowers.”

“Don’t mention it. I stole them from your garden.”

Amanda had to laugh at his ready confession.

The dinner was a great success. Brady helped himself to seconds and thirds, heaping extravagant compliments on Amanda in much the same way that he kept heaping piles of noodles on his dish.

“I hope you like strawberry-rhubarb pie,” she said as she placed the dessert on the table.

“You’ve gotta be kidding. Strawberry-rhubarb is my favorite.”

“Mine too,” she confessed, slicing into the fruit-filled pie. Once the dessert was served, Amanda lifted the coffeepot in a gesture of invitation. “Would you like some?”

“Is it decaffeinated?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Good. Because with you around, I don’t need any additional stimulation.”

“What happened to all your combat training?” she countered with an arch glance, no mean feat when done while pouring a cup of coffee.

“I must’ve missed the class on handling forward librarians.”

“Forward! I like that.”

“Me too,” he grinned.

“I am not forward.”

He lifted his brows. “Why not?”

“Drink your coffee before it gets cold.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he mockingly agreed.

After their meal Brady surprised her by offering to clean up.

“That’s all right. I’ve heard that the kitchen can be a dangerous place for southpaws.”

“It’s true, but how do you know that?”

“I read it somewhere,” she shrugged. There was no way she was going to confess to reading up on southpaws in the hope of discovering what made Brady Gallagher tick.

“One of the dangers of dating a librarian, I suppose.”

“Only one of them? What are the rest?”

“Ah, that would be telling. Since you won’t allow me to help you with all this, what do you say to leaving it here while we go settle somewhere more comfortable?”

“Like the living room?”

“If that’s the best you can do.” His look suggested that the bedroom would be more appropriate for what he had in mind.

“You’ve got a one-track mind,” she accused him.

“Which reminds me, didn’t I promise to help you overcome this problem you’ve got with left and right?”

Amanda deliberately chose an armchair across from the couch as she denied, “I don’t have any problem.”

“Scared?”

“No.”

“Then why are you sitting way over there? I don’t bite. Unless asked to,” he added provocatively.

The communication sent by his slumberous gaze beckoned her closer until she was sitting right beside him. His hand then lifted to push a strand of blond hair away from her face before shifting to trail down the side of her face, his finger finally lazily circling a corner of her mouth. This was one of the things that made Brady’s embraces so special. He never simply kissed her. Each kiss was preceded by a caress as he cupped her face, ran his fingers through her hair, or tested the contours of her lower lip with his thumb. Amanda saw his dark head lower to hers before her eyelids dropped, shielding the curious expectation reflected in her bemused eyes. She waited with bated breath for the touch of his lips on hers, but instead she felt the soft whisper of his words.

“This is your left temple.” His mouth brushed over the cataloged item, sampling her as though she were a choice delicacy for his consumption. Only when that territory had been completely surveyed did Brady move on, nuzzling aside the silky mass of her hair to expose the delicate curve of her ear. Thrown by the sensual turmoil his tactile caresses were generating, Amanda made no move to stop the erotic inventory. Her system was filled with a paralyzing sweetness that was prolonged by the lingering inspection of his lips.

His voice rippled over her skin as he huskily listed, “Left shoulder.”

The warmth of his palm radiated through her, touching the receptiveness of tingling nerve endings. “Left arm.”

Amply assisted by the sleek material of her silk blouse, his hand leisurely cruised down the length of her arm. The memory of his touch was retained long after he’d moved on, so that by the time he reached her hand, Amanda’s entire arm was alive with a wildfire of excitement. “Left hand.”

Brady felt the fine tremors shaking her hand as he slid his fingers between hers. Lifting her hand to his mouth, he flicked the tip of his tongue across her knuckles in a way that was guaranteed to increase her trembling. Glowing splinters of desire punctuated her composure, leaving her prey to the raw needs prowling through her. Her hand opened to cup his lean cheek, guiding his tempting mouth to the parted sweetness of her lips.

The depth of her response was more than either one of them had expected, and Brady’s emotions flared in reply. Expecting him to continue his downward travels, she was surprised when he started all over again, this time starting with her right temple, so that by the time he reached her right hand, it was already spread across his back.

Moments later Amanda found herself draped across Brady’s lap, very much aware of the taut contours of his body. It took only a dexterous twist to have them both stretched out full-length on the couch. She didn’t have time to contemplate the possible repercussions, because his lips joined in the subtle seduction, and rational thought dimmed accordingly.

His touch was embroidered with intimacy as his hand circled behind her ear to slowly meander down her neck. The throbbing pulse at the base of her throat told its own story, one that Brady paused to relish. “Your heart’s pounding,” he informed her softly.

Amanda slowly raised her hand to his chest, the thin material of his shirt acting like a second skin. “So is yours,” she answered with husky unsteadiness.

Brady’s nimble fingers undid the few remaining buttons until her blouse fell open, revealing the shimmering delicacy of her lingerie. Instead of providing protection from his caresses, the thin nylon of her slip turned his touch into a silky temptation, his featherlight stroking movements igniting new flames in the fire of her desire. His slow touch was far more arousing than any impatient fondling, and it put the other embraces she’d experienced to shame.

Amanda slid her arms out of the sleeves of her blouse and lifted them to his shoulders, enjoying the feel of the strong column of his neck rubbing against the bare skin of her inner arm. Drifting closer to him, she clasped her arms tightly around his neck and mindlessly guided his lips back to hers for a kiss of unrestrained passion. His mouth readily assimilated hers, his warm tongue drawing hers into an intimate
dialogue. The languid tousle was intensely evocative. She returned his play with hungry fire, arching her body against his.

Their emotions were running high, their self-control low, when the sound of the doorbell invaded their idyllic haven.

Brady’s mouth eased slightly to whisper, “Don’t answer it. They’ll go away.”

He was right, they did go away, but the sound of the doorbell was replaced by the clamoring demands of the phone.

With a frustrated groan, Brady pried himself away from her. “Damn! It could be headquarters. We’ve got to answer it.”

Amanda was already rolling off the couch. There didn’t seem to be much point in trying to replace her blouse, so she didn’t bother. Brady’s eyes followed her as she moved across the room, noting her elegant carriage and exquisite body. He also observed the change in her manner the moment she identified the caller. Amanda didn’t stay on the phone for long; Brady heard her brief explanation that she had company. But by the time she hung up, her barriers had all been replaced, and the warm, loving woman he’d held in his arms was gone.

“What’s wrong?” Brady queried, her abrupt mood reversal throwing him off-balance.

“Nothing.” Her voice was cool as she efficiently picked up her blouse and put it back on before walking over to the bar and pouring herself a sherry.

“Talk to me,” he coaxed as he walked over to her. His hand on her arm prevented her from turning away.

There was a certain soothing comfort in his touch that got through to her and made her
say, “That was my mother. She was calling from California.”

“Is something wrong with her?”

“Yes,” Amanda flatly replied. “But not in the way you mean. She just got married again.”

“Isn’t that good news?”

“Not when it’s for the fourth time.”

Even Brady looked surprised. “She’s been married four times?”

Amanda laughed bitterly. “My mother is a staunch supporter of the institution of marriage.”

“Come on, Mandy. Let’s sit down and talk about it. The news has obviously upset you.”

But Amanda was no longer in a receptive mood. “Look, Brady, we’ve had our fun and games. Now it’s time for you to leave.”

“Mandy, I warned you that you weren’t going to be able to get rid of me as easily as you did that klutzy accountant.”

“I’ll call the police,” she threatened without thinking.

Brady grinned in amusement. “They already know I’m here.”

“What do you want?” Her voice was ragged with repressed emotion.

“Ultimately, you. But for the time being I’ll settle for a little information. You never talk about your family. Why is that?”

“My family life hasn’t been as happy as yours,” she countered bitterly.

Brady’s expression suddenly became austere. “My family life hasn’t always been happy, Mandy. I was twenty-three when we learned that my father had lung cancer. He’d been a heavy smoker, but the ironic thing is that he’d finally quit smoking a couple months earlier.”

“I’m sorry.” The words seemed inadequate somehow. “I didn’t know.”

“There a lot of things about me you don’t know, Mandy. Things you don’t bother to find out. The reason I don’t smoke is just one of them.”

“It’s not in my nature to delve into other people’s personal lives.” She defended her attitude.

“Why not? Afraid they might return the favor?”

Amanda wearily shoved her hair away from her face. “Brady, I don’t find it easy to talk about my past.”

“I realize that,” he said in a softer tone. “And I’m not pressing for your life story. I’d just like you to open up a little, Mandy. I want to be your friend.”

“Just my friend?”

“And your lover.”

“No one could accuse you of beating around the bush,” she wryly observed.

“You did ask,” he reminded her.

“So? Since when have you started doing what I ask?”

“I like to indulge you occasionally. And I’d love to indulge in you frequently,” he murmured with that intimate inflection that never failed to get to her. “But you’re right, it is getting late.”

Amanda accompanied him to the front door where she said, “Thanks.”

“For the directional lesson?” he questioned, referring to their dalliance on the couch.

“For the offer to be my friend,” she answered sincerely. “For leaving without a hassle.”

Brady reached out to brush the back of his hand across her cheek and drop a swift kiss onto her upturned lips. “Good night.”

Four days later Amanda was walking down the college’s front steps, heading for the faculty parking lot, when a voice hailed her from behind. Recognizing it as belonging to Guy Lox, she increased her pace but to no avail.

“Amanda, didn’t you hear me calling you?” he demanded peevishly, his breath coming in rapid little bursts because of his scramble down the stairs.

“I was on my way home, Professor.”

Guy’s eyes narrowed ominously at her cool dismissal. “Come have a drink with me,” he said.

“She can’t,” another voice interceded on her behalf. “Amanda is going to give me a ride back to headquarters. Police business.”

“Sounds like funny business to me,” Guy muttered.

“Then it’s just as well we’re not asking you,” Brady smoothly returned, grasping Amanda’s arm and leading her toward the parking lot.

Looking over her shoulder, Amanda saw Guy stood fuming on the cement steps, clearly furious at the turn of events. His ferret face wore a look that promised revenge as he pivoted and returned to the building.

Once they reached the parking lot, Brady asked, “Where’s your car?”

“It’s over there.” She pointed to the next aisle.

Brady headed toward a sedate sedan while Amanda walked up to the car beside it. “This one’s mine,” she pointed out, remembering for the first time that he’d never seen her car before because the red Porsche had always been safely tucked away in the garage.

Brady’s low whistle of admiration was accompanied by a look of exaggerated disbelief. “This can’t be Amanda’s car,” he said.

“No? Then whose car is it?”

“Mandy’s.”

Amanda had to laugh at the lazy smugness of his voice, “You make it sound as though I have a split personality.”

“Not split,” he
answered seriously. “I’d say more like divided—against yourself.”

“I had no idea they taught clinical psychology at the police academy,” she shot back, shaken by his accurate analysis.