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Authors: Anne Marsh

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BOOK: Burning Up
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She shouldered open the screen door. “Give me a hand with this, will you?” She took one end of the fully loaded cooler, waiting until Lily grabbed the other, and then she marched toward that little import Lily loved so much. “Don't have much trunk space in this thing, do you?”
“There's enough to suit me,” Lily grumbled, too preoccupied to notice just what Nonna was up to. She was trying to imagine Jack Donovan as a scared, rebellious, ten-year-old boy. They'd grown up together, in the same town, but she hadn't paid him much attention until she was older. Until high school, when every new hormone in her body had sat up and taken note of him. She'd just bet he'd been every bit the heartbreaker then that he was now—but that was dangerous curiosity she didn't need, any more than she needed or wanted the unexpectedly sweet tug on her emotions brought by Nonna's tale. Jack had landed with Nonna, and he'd found a happily-ever-after too many kids in the foster care system never got.
“Pop the trunk.” Nonna set her end of the cooler down, leaving Lily no choice but to follow. The weight of the loaded cooler wasn't inconsequential. “You take this on up to the camp for me,” Nonna suggested. “They'll be hungry now they've got that fire under control.”
Lily opened her mouth to refuse, but Nonna wasn't the kind of woman you said no to. Not once she'd put her mind to something. She'd clearly decided to throw the pair of them together and see what happened.
Getting into the car to head up to the fire camp, Lily knew her decision to be a good girl and do as she was asked was only part of the story. Because part of her—the shameless, pleasure-loving part of her—wanted every minute Jack Donovan would give her.
Chapter Sixteen
G
randdad's place was light and airy, a well-designed mansion carefully placed to take advantage of the stunning mountain views. The back of the house was built straight into a canyon, so that the lower floors flowed seamlessly into the rich earth. More than one design magazine had sent a photographer through the place, gushing over the floor-to-ceiling windows and the architecture that blended outdoors with indoors.
Eddie hated the place.
Hated everything it stood for.
If he could have, he would have burned the house right to the ground. But he wasn't that stupid. Fire that big would draw more attention than he wanted right now. Insurance claim would have investigators crawling all over the property. This morning's wildfire had done fuck-all as far as razing the place went. He'd had hopes there, but Jack Donovan had put up a chopper and dumped an obscene amount of fire retardant on their happy little gully. He'd saved the neighborhood, and Strong would have given the man a hero's welcome if he'd wanted it.
Still, he couldn't go cold turkey, could he? And he needed to work out the finer details of the little messages he was crafting for Lily.
The fire pit was his own personal touch on the place. A man really could learn everything he didn't know from the DIY network. A little show-me-please and some vigorous use of the black AmEx card, and he had himself a safety zone where he could let off a little steam.
The sun was still riding high in the sky because dark came far too slowly in the summer months, but he dragged the wooden Adirondack chair right up to his little theater anyhow. Fire-resistant slate surrounded the bronze fire pit. Pit looked like a funeral urn, which he figured was appropriate. After Granddad had died, he'd tossed the old man's ashes right on in there. Now every fire he set there further reduced his nemesis to a messy black smear.
He liked that.
The subject of today's little bonfire wasn't quite as satisfying. Now that his Lily had come home, she spent all her time working on that farm of hers. Not much he could pick up from her trash there, so he'd hacked up a handful of lavender plants. Dash of lighter fluid and a few matches later, and he had a ringside seat to the best-smelling barbecue in all of Strong.
Eventually she'd notice what had happened to her plants.
He was counting on it.
Maybe he'd bring her the remnants, just in case she proved slow on the uptake.
That was another happy thought, so, while the flames got themselves going, he eased his zipper down, nice and slow.
Fire licked right on up the wood like a living mouth on a cock.
That was real good, too. Wrapping his hand around his dick, he stroked in time to the rhythm of the flames. Sucking in the heady scent of lavender, the sweet smell of Lily and fire, with each hard stroke.
The sun was just starting its slow, heated dip-and-slide behind the mountains when Jack finally got the chance to shower the fire off himself. The fire crew had set up a portable shower rig, and the cheerful sounds of the fire camp around the hangar almost drowned out the welcome splatter of lukewarm water hitting his skin. Guys hollered and music played, and every breath he took smelled of pine-scented soap and fresh-cut grass from somewhere close by where someone had taken the lawn mower out for a little spin.
The telltale signs of the day's work headed right on down the drain. After he'd done his cleanup number, he shut off the water and moved on out. Nodded a greeting to the next man in line.
Pulling on a faded pair of jeans, he draped his towel around his neck and shoved a hand through his hair. Solar-heated shower, his ass. There was something to be said for heading back to Lily's farm tonight as he'd planned.
“Those fires were no accident.” Damned if Ben Cortez wasn't lying in wait for him. Given the intense look in the other man's eyes, he was surprised he'd been allowed to finish his shower before the interrogation and debrief took place.
Maybe Ben was right. Maybe he was dead wrong. That was what made fire such a challenging bitch. “Could have been,” he allowed.
There were too many variables during summer season to be dead sure without bringing in an arson team. If you didn't find a man with a gas can and a lit match, you called in a team before you let the accusations fly. Especially when you weren't sure what name to hang the blame on. He needed to play it real cautious until he had the information he needed.
“What the hell do you mean?” Ben hooked a hand onto his hip. Glaring. Jack recognized the look in the old man's eyes. Fire had his back up, and he wasn't letting go of what they both suspected was the truth.
Stalling for time, he ran the towel over his head. “Fire likes to eat up the evidence, Ben.”
Ben shook his head, stubborn to the bone. “You feel it just like I do, Jack. We both know it. Those fires were set.”
“This another one of those moments where your bones are talking to you, Ben?” He'd never discounted any of the older man's hunches, not when his instincts were screaming, too, but he couldn't take instinct to the sheriff. It was real hard to write an arrest warrant for a nameless guy on a dirt bike.
“No.” Ben slammed his hand down on the card table that was doing double duty as command central. “But when I get the boys out there, we both know they're going to find something.”
“Walk me through it, Ben.” He needed to hear that the other man had sensed the same pattern he had. “Lightning is the likeliest cause of any wildfire. So why isn't this Mother Nature setting a few hot ones underneath our asses?”
He'd seen enough of the burn pattern from the plane. He'd damned sure seen the speed and the height of the fames. What else had Ben noticed?
“Fire likely started near those homes on the ridge, either right by Haverley's or by the road. Besides the spotter, several neighbors called the fire in—but they all saw a different set of flames. That kind of pop-pop-pop—one little fire next to another—doesn't happen accidentally.”
“So what's in it for our boy?”
“He's getting something out of it,” Ben said grimly. “Not insurance money. We didn't lose any structures today.”
“But it didn't look good there for a while.”
He shrugged in acknowledgment. “Could also be crew, looking to pick up some overtime, but I'll vouch for my team.”
Ben nodded. “So it's not money our boy wants. He's getting off on this some other way.”
“Pleasure. He likes setting things on fire. Likes watching them burn. He lights one or two or three, he's going to want to light another.” Lily had said her stalker had been masturbating while he watched her kitchen go up in flames. He'd been aroused.
“Serial.”
“Yeah. Or he's going to get fucking inspired by the fire a lightning strike kicks up, and he'll set one of his own. But one won't be enough.”
“How many fires did Lily have before she came home?” Ben asked.
Too many. “If he followed her on back, he's not going to stop with one fire. Hell, is there any number that would be enough?”
Ben eyed him grimly. “I don't think so, Jack. I think he's going to keep coming back and back, until he makes a mistake or he's got what he wants.”
“Bastard's going to come for her.”
“So you've got someone watching, Jack.” The chief didn't take his eyes off Jack. “Because she's a fine woman, just like Nonna. I'd hate to see either of them hurt.”
“I'll keep her safe, Ben.”
“You do that.” Ben paused, and, sure enough, he couldn't leave well enough alone. “You partner up with a woman like that, Jack, and you won't have regrets.”
“When are you gonna make Nonna an honest woman?” Offense was the best defense, right?
Ben just glared at him. “We're not talking about me here, boy. This is all about you and Lily.”
Jack shoved away from the table. “Hell, Ben. This is none of your business.” He already had half a town breathing down his neck. He didn't need Ben on his case, as well.
“Speak of the devil,” Evan called, a small smile playing across his lips, as if he had himself a little secret he was enjoying. “Or maybe we've got us a visiting angel.”
Jack knew Lily was no angel, even if she was spun-sugar on the outside. Inside she was hiding a bad girl who wanted nothing more than to come out and play. All he had to do was convince her to play with him.
Although he was going to have to do something about the car. He winced. That car of hers might have been an expensive little import once upon a time. Jack guessed that motor was still pure fun, despite the piss-poor paint job and the battered leather seats. A lavender wand dangled from the rearview mirror, the braided strands of dried flowers bouncing up and down with each rut she hit. Hell, he was surprised she hadn't painted the damned car purple.
Lily was a slow, deliberate driver, meticulously trying to steer her car around each pothole.
“Going to take her all afternoon,” Rio observed cheerfully. He was camped out with half the jump team. Taking care of the housekeeping that went with jumping. After the day's jump, they were going through the chutes. Rio was drawing a needle in and out of the fabric with the same precision he'd used at the firing range during their tours of duty. Chute was just a different weapon, and you didn't go back into battle without giving your weapons all the TLC they needed. They'd all darned chutes when they had to. Sure as hell, you didn't trust your chute to anyone off the team.
Once the car was parked carefully, Jack rose to his feet. He'd never brought Lily here, and he found himself wondering what she thought about the base camp, the beat-up plane parked out on the short runway and the men and equipment scattered around the hangar. No air-traffic control or bags of peanuts here. The car door opened, and she slid out, deliciously feminine in his masculine world.
Yeah, he'd enjoy playing with her.
“Couldn't wait until tonight?” he drawled, enjoying the outrage blossoming in her eyes. She'd wanted to play—so he'd play. Adrenaline rushed through him.
 
Jack was big and wet, pulling a white T-shirt over his head. Jeans hugged powerful thighs, and those booted feet of his moved with sheer determination.
God.
She shouldn't find him so damned sexy. He was six feet of trouble. She should have tossed his damned supper at him and left. Instead, damned if she didn't take a step closer.
“Nonna sent me,” she said, giving him an artificial smile. “Sacrificial lamb and all that.” When his eyes narrowed, she added, “I brought food.”
He took a step toward her, that familiar smile curling his lips. “We both know food wasn't what Nonna had in mind.” That was true enough, and there was no missing the good-natured, masculine chuckle of agreement from one of his brothers. He loved his Nonna, but he wasn't above grabbing this bull by the horns. “She wants me to keep you, plain and simple.”
“There's nothing simple about this,” she growled, grabbing the cooler wedged inside her trunk. He slid in front of her before she could do more than get her fingers wrapped around the plastic handles, lifting the cooler out effortlessly and carrying it over to the picnic table. Nonna could plan for the future all she wanted. No matter how attractive that fantasy of happily-ever-after was, Lily had to be practical. Right now all she could think about was the short term. Sure, maybe she'd dreamed about Jack—a time or two—when she'd been younger, but that had been years ago.
Now she was all grown up.
She knew better.
She'd known she'd take as many nights as she could get in his arms. Jack Donovan was a weakness, six feet of sexy demand she couldn't—and didn't want to—resist. She'd thought she could enjoy what he was offering. She'd planned to seduce him if that was what it took. His determination to go after her stalker was something else altogether.
BOOK: Burning Up
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