Wildfire (7 page)

“I had no idea that my invitation to spend a day in Milwaukee would require such thought,” Brady teased. “A night in Milwaukee, maybe, but not just a day.” Amanda’s reproving look bounced right off him, like water off a duck’s back. “Did you know that your nose sort of scrunches up when you’re disapproving?”

Not sure that she liked the sound of a scrunched-up nose, Amanda smoothed out her expression immediately. “It does?”

“Yes. Very cute.”

“Cute?’

“Of course. I haven’t reached the ripe old age of twenty-eight without learning to recognize a cute nose when I see one.”

Amanda almost choked on her pickle. “You’re twenty-eight?”

“That’s right. Why? How old are you?” he asked with easy familiarity.

Amanda was disgusted to admit that for one fleeting moment she was actually tempted to lie about her age. What had happened to her? How could she even consider altering the truth for vanity’s sake?

“I’m old enough to know better,” she muttered under her breath, not realizing that Brady could hear her.

He was astonished at her anger. “What’s wrong? Are you sensitive about your age?”

“No, I am not sensitive!” she practically shouted. “I’m thirty.”

“Well, don’t sound so tragic about it.”

Amanda wasn’t tragic about it; she’d accepted the arrival of her thirtieth birthday without the attendant trauma some people experienced. Having been told even as a teenager that she was “mature for her age,” Amanda had always dated men at least four years her senior. Consequently in her own mind there was a world of difference between her age and Brady’s.

“Mandy?”

“You can’t call a thirty-year-old woman Mandy,” she sniped.

“There’s no law against it.”

“There ought to be,” was her muttered response.

“Why? Because it doesn’t go with your cool librarian image?”

Amanda was immediately on the defensive. “It’s not an image.”

“I think it is. I think that underneath the layers of formality is a little girl who never got the chance to play.”

“You’re entitled to your opinion, Detective Gallagher.”

“How kind, Ms. Richards,” he drawled. “Frankly I don’t see what you’re getting so het up about. There’s only two years difference, not twenty.”

“Are you insinuating that I’m old?” she demanded.

“No.” Brady leaned across the table. “I’m insinuating that you’re young.”

“I’d rather not talk about it.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t. That would be very tidy, wouldn’t it? Sweeping all your emotions under the carpet like unwanted dust.”

Amanda astonished him by laughing. “I do not sweep unwanted dust under the carpet. I use a vacuum cleaner.”

Brady grinned in response to her unexpected flash of humor. “See, it’s not so hard to do, is it?”

“What’s not so hard?”

“Letting go a little.”

“Don’t try that inhibited-librarian line on me again, Brady,” she warned. “It only worked once.”

“And with you once is not enough.”

Coming from any other man, the sexual overtones of the comment would have left her cold, but with Brady there was a spice of wicked excitement that quickened her heart. What was she doing here, sharing provocative retorts in what amounted to little more than an enclosed hot dog stand with a guy who was only in his twenties?

What
really bothers you?
she asked herself.
Are you having a bad time, or are you worrying about what people might think?
Was Brady right? Was she too wrapped up with her thirty-year-old image to enjoy life? Was it wrong to be aware of your position in life and the responsibilities that it entailed?

Amanda’s self-inquisition did not go unnoticed. Brady studied her with an intentness that she would have
found discomfiting, had she been aware of it. Brady’s hooded eyes roved over her in silent contemplation before he reached out to gently tap her cheek with his lean finger. “Is anyone home in there?” he questioned.

Amanda covered her indecision with an off-hand observation. “That’s a long trip.”

“Not as far as Munich.”

“True.” Amanda deliberated a moment longer. She’d always wanted to visit Milwaukee’s festival, so why not accept? After all, she wasn’t agreeing to anything long-term, just a day’s outing. “All right. I’d like to go.”

“Fine. How about Sunday.”

“This Sunday? But that’s the day after tomorrow.”

“It sure is. Why? Did you have something else planned?”

“I was going to vacuum,” Amanda quipped. This lighthearted teasing was, surprisingly, fun. Brady made a tempting verbal sparring partner, and their parity made her wonder how good a partner he’d be in other, more intimate, enterprises. Her body warmed to the thought. This heady enjoyment had never been present with other men she’d dated in the past. Of course she’d never ended the evening licking sauerkraut from her chin either.

Brady returned her banter. “I wouldn’t want you rearranging your vacuuming schedule just for me.”

“Not for you,” Amanda corrected. “For the Oktoberfest.”

“You’re relegating me to a mere chauffeur, is that it?” he growled.

“If you’re good, I might also let you be the tour guide,” she offered with mocking generosity.

“Oh, I’m good all right, Mandy,” Brady returned, his smile reflecting his wicked amusement. He was feeling quite satisfied with the way things were turning out. Tonight had been a test of sorts, like the one Amanda had subjected him to by taking him to that classical concert. It was a test she’d passed with flying colors, adjusting to the new situation much better than he’d expected.

Sitting across from him, her face animated with amusement, her manner relaxed, Amanda fit in well with her surroundings while still retaining that air of class that had first attracted him to her. The slight difference in their ages was a matter of complete indifference to him. Frankly he was more concerned about the differences in their backgrounds.

Noticing the way her pink tongue was still hungrily licking her lips, Brady offered, “Would you like to sample their Italian ice before we leave?”

“Yes, please,” she readily agreed.

The fresh citrus tanginess was a welcome antidote to the aftertaste left by the sauerkraut. Their palates and plates both clean, they dumped their trash in a huge bin, replacing the plastic tray on the shelf reserved for that purpose. The trip back to her house seemed to take less time than the trip out, but maybe that was because now the ice had been broken, and they had temporarily suspended testing. Whatever the reason, Amanda didn’t want the evening to end, so she extended it by inviting Brady in for a drink.

“Can I use your phone first?” he asked.

“Sure. It’s on the table there.” She pointed to the spindle-legged piece of furniture occupying the otherwise unusable space beside the stairs. “What would you like to drink?”

He paused before dialing. “Do you have any beer?”

“I’ll go check.”

By the time Amanda returned from the kitchen, Brady had completed his phone call and was hanging up the receiver. His sidelong glance encompassed the can of soda in her hand.

“I don’t have any beer.” Her comment was in reply to the enquiring tilt of his eyebrow.

Amanda continued on into the living room, followed more closely than she realized by Brady. Turning to offer him the can of carbonated beverage, she was startled by his proximity. His eyes never strayed from hers as he removed the can from her hand, reaching around her to carefully set it on the end table.

“We’ve been playing games all evening,” he murmured, curving his strong hands around the tips of her shoulders and pulling her closer.

Amanda avoided the suggestively intimate quality of his low-toned remark. “Of course we’ve been playing games —Tempest, Pac-Man, Space Invaders…”

“That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it.”

His approach was slow and unthreatening. During those few moments Amanda had ample opportunity to voice her objections. Oddly enough, the words wouldn’t come to mind. Instead, her thoughts were flooded with the remembered pleasure of his touch.

Waves of delicious anticipation danced over her as his hands slid across her shoulders. He was so close that the warmth of his breath caressed her sensitive skin. Brady didn’t say a word, he didn’t have to. The warm desire in his eyes said it all. He deliberately allowed several more emotion-charged seconds to elapse before weaving his fingers into the golden mass of her hair, framing her head with his palms.

Amanda saw his descending mouth through the screen of her downcast lashes. The pressure of his kiss was sensuously light as he explored the possibilities of the caress. Their lips might have been fashioned for each other, so well did they mesh together. There was no bumping of noses, grinding of chins, or clashing of teeth. Tiny, nibbling kisses, tender in nature and devastating in intensity, were bestowed all along the curve of her upper lip. Brady’s slow and extended interplay created a momentum of its own.

Amanda’s lips parted, her senses filled with the taste of him. Sighing with pleasure, she curved her arms around his neck, her fingers free to roam in the springy curls of his dark hair. As once before, she silently marveled at the ease with which her body fit into his. Her softness melted against his hardness, firing the mounting need pulsing through her blood.

Brady’s rising need was apparent as he groaned and gathered her closer. Amanda could feel every muscle and sinew of his masculine frame, taut and unmistakably aroused. His right hand was still entangled in the spun silk of her hair, while the other hand was spread across the small of her back, fusing their lower torsos together in a juncture of erotic stimulation.

Warning bells soon began sounding in Amanda’s head, alerting her to the dwindling remnants of her control. Their ringing became increasingly louder, the shrill summons incredibly lifelike. When Brady loosened his embrace, she wondered if he’d heard them too.

He leaned away to lazily study the flushed planes of her face, the glazed bemusement of her eyes. His voice was still husky with desire as he suggested, “I think you’d better answer the phone.”

Amanda jerked away from him to do so, reality crowding in on the enticing sensations of a moment ago. “Hello?”

“Is Brady Gallagher there?” a feminine voice inquired.

“Yes, he is. Just a minute, please.” Amanda put her hand over the mouthpiece and held out the receiver. “It’s for you,” she told Brady.

Amanda could ascertain nothing from Brady’s monosyllabic responses into the phone. The conversation was brief, and judging by the look on his face, serious.

“What’s wrong?” she asked as soon as he hung up.

His reply made her stomach plummet. “There’s been another fire at the college.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Brady had already pulled on his vest by the time Amanda found her voice. “How bad is it? Was anyone hurt?”

Brady answered her last question first. “No, no one was hurt. It was a small fire, in a trash can in a washroom on the third floor. The college security people caught it before it had time to spread. Listen, I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you later.”

He let himself out, a concerned Amanda remaining behind. There was no doubt that the situation was a potentially dangerous one. Had the fire spread, there could have been numerous injuries, even fatalities. What kind of maniac would endanger the lives of hundreds of people in such a way? Who could be setting these fires, and why?

Assuming that their intended jaunt to the Oktoberfest in Milwaukee would be postponed until another time, Amanda didn’t expect to hear from Brady again that weekend. Consequently she was surprised when he called late Saturday night. She’d just returned from a date with Bob, and was mentally kicking herself for accepting his invitation. It had not been an enjoyable evening. She no longer found Bob to be the least bit stimulating, either mentally or physically. In fact, he was decidedly dull.

The phone was ringing as she let herself into the otherwise quiet house. In her hurry to answer it, Amanda tripped over the phone’s extension cord, pulling the entire unit onto the floor. The resultant crash did put a stop to the ringing because the receiver skidded across the hardwood floor. Amanda scrambled after it. “Hello?”

“Mandy, are you all right?” a male voice urgently questioned.

“Brady?”

“Yes, it’s Brady. Answer me! Are you all right?”

“Of course I’m all right,” she retorted impatiently, resenting his tone. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because it sounded as though you were wrestling for the telephone.”

“Not
for
the phone,
with
the phone. It fell on the floor.”

“Did you lock your front door?” he confused her by asking.

“Lock…I don’t know. What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Mandy, you’re living there alone, and it would be advisable for you to keep the door locked at night.”

“Yes, Detective Gallagher. Thank you so much for the safety lecture. Was that all?”

“No, that’s not all. Be ready at eight in the morning.”

“Ready for what?”

“Me. I’m taking you to the Oktoberfest in Milwaukee, or had you forgotten?”

“No, I didn’t forget,” she answered. “I just thought that with the second fire at the college you might not be able to get away this weekend.”

“I’m not getting away for the weekend,” he replied. “Only for the day. And I’ve earned a break. I’ve been working since early this morning.”

“Then maybe you should take it easy tomorrow. After all, Sunday is supposed to be a day of rest.”

“You’re not getting out of it that easily,” he warned her.

“I’m not trying to get out of anything, Brady. I just thought you might be tired.”

“Then maybe you should let me go get some sleep so I can pick you up in the morning. Good night, Mandy. See you at eight.”

He hung up before she could say a word. Amanda slammed the receiver back on its cradle, rattling the bell inside the central mechanism.

Had it not meant getting up even earlier the next morning, she would have been sorely tempted to leave before Brady’s arrival. He had no right to play the domineering drill sergeant with her. Muttering under her breath about the foibles of the male half of the human race, she returned the phone to the table before checking to make sure the front door was locked. The safety check had been part of her nightly ritual since her first apartment, and inherent to her cautious nature.