Playing with Fire (4 page)

“Where’s home?”

Macey refused to let a smart-aleck retort about since-when-did-he-care slip out. The less he knew about how much he’d upset her last night, the better. “Home is that way,” she said, pointing vaguely.

“Not your car?”

“Not my car. One night of that is plenty, thanks.”
Oops
. She couldn’t help herself.

“Macey, I’m really sorry about—”

She held up her hand. “It’s fine, Dare.” She grabbed her purse and the orange soda she’d just refilled. “See you tomorrow. Want me here at ten?”

“Noon’s fine. Business doesn’t pick up till then. Macey, wait,” he said as she started down the concrete steps from the sprawling patio dotted with weatherproof metal tables and chairs.

She turned toward him and waited as he locked the door and checked it.

“I’ll drive you home.”

“I want to walk.”

“You didn’t used to be this stubborn.”

“It’s less than a mile. I’ll be fine.”

He stared at her under the bright light that illuminated the patio and the hotel next door. “I’m walking you home, then.”

“You were
always
this stubborn.” Macey was actually glad to see any hint of the Derek she used to know, and couldn’t hold back a smile. “Suit yourself.”

She started walking and Derek caught up without hesitation.

“You do know I’ve spent the past two years on my own in a foreign country?” she said as they padded through the cushiony, dry sand.

He didn’t respond.
Fantastic
. She had herself a silent, brooding chaperone. Ignoring his moodiness, she took in the beauty around her. The thundering waves rolled in, fascinating her. Frightening her at the same time they lulled her. Kind of like Derek.

She angled toward the water, but stopped just short of it. Her aching feet cried out for it, but the salt would sting the cut on her foot, regardless of the thick bandages she’d layered on.

“So what’s Andie’s story?” she asked, wanting to get Derek to talk. About anything. “No idea.”

“You hired her. You’ve got to know something about her.”

“I know her last name, that she rides a motorcycle and that she shows up for work when she’s supposed to.”

“Is she a local?” Macey tried not to cringe at the very large gap in his info.

“Don’t think so. She travels.”

“Travels.” Derek wasn’t normally an idiot, but hiring someone without getting basic information, references…That was something Macey would never do.

“She’s worked out,” he said defensively.

“So far.”

“Andie’s fine. I trust her.”

“Yeah,” Macey said, realizing she did, too, strangely enough. “But I’ll handle the hiring from now on if you don’t mind.”

“Be my guest.” His tone was indifferent, not at all offended.

“Gorgeous night,” she said, stooping to pick up a shell that gleamed in the moonlight.

The air was still warm, and thick with moisture. Stars peppered the cloudless sky and the sliver of a moon hung delicately over the gulf. There were couples and small groups of people scattered here and there along the beach, but no one close.

This place spoke to something deep inside her. She was drawn to the water as if she’d lived her whole life here, as if it were a part of her she’d been missing. She filled her lungs with the salty air, and a calm settled over her.

They made their way along the shore in silence. Derek stared straight ahead, she noticed, as if he was oblivious to the serenity, the beauty. But then Derek had always been Mr. Practical.

“You should check out the scenery sometime,” she said, smiling. “
This
is why I choose to walk.”

He looked at her as if he’d forgotten she was there. “Huh?”

Macey swept her hand out to indicate, well, everything. How anyone could be numb to these surroundings she didn’t know. But then again, she couldn’t begin to imagine what dark ugly place Derek was stuck in.

“So the bar made lots of money today,” she said in an attempt to keep the topic neutral. “We almost managed to keep up with the customers.”

“Yeah.”

“I thought I’d post Help Wanted fliers around town,” she continued. “I figure we need at least four more people, maybe more if they only want part-time work.”

“Okay.”

“And maybe once we hire them, we could rent them out as escorts after hours.”

“Sure. Wait…what?”

“Just making certain you’re paying attention. The escort business would get us some bad press, huh?”

Derek finally looked at her—really looked at her. She tried to hide her grin.

“Kidding,” she said, focusing on the shell-speckled sand. “That was a joke.”

“Interesting idea. But likely to give Gus a heart attack.”

“He’s something else, isn’t he?” She chuckled, thinking about the cantankerous act Derek’s uncle put on to, she suspected, get a reaction from Derek.

“He means well. He just insists on being annoying about it.”

“I like him.”

“That’s right—you two are best friends. How much farther to your place?”

“You don’t have to walk me all the way home. I’m perfectly safe.”

Derek glanced around. “All kinds of yo-yos out here.”

She loved his protective tendency, even if it was just the way he was with everyone. She used to dream that it meant something special between them, but she’d long ago resigned herself to the reality that it didn’t. She’d forced herself to move on.

Mostly.

When she sneaked a sideways glance at his profile, she shivered. In the dim moonlight, the weary shadows on his face were invisible and only the strong angles stood out. He looked like the Derek she’d grown up with instead of the one carrying the weight of tragedy on his shoulders.

“My path is past that next hotel,” she told him, gesturing toward the Casa del Mar. “I can make it from here.”

“Maybe I want to see where you’re staying.”

“Did I mention how stubborn you are?”

“A time or two today so far.”

“Is this guilt-induced? Is that why you insist on seeing me home?”

“If it is, go with it. My kind, unselfish gestures are at a premium.”

As if she hadn’t noticed.

A few minutes later, Derek climbed the flight of stairs with her to her second-floor apartment.

“There’s really not much to see yet,” she told him. “Generic furniture that came with the place is all. Not even any pet dust bunnies.”

She unlocked the door and pushed it open.

“You should put a dead bolt on this,” Derek said, following her in.

“Says the man who leaves his door unlocked for anyone to come in off the streets.”

“Lucky for you.”

“Want a snack?” she asked, heading into the bathroom-size kitchenette. “I’m starving. I’ve got Cheez-Its, trail mix and Ding Dongs.”

“On a health kick?”

“On the rebound from very little junk food for two years. Nearly killed me.”

She took out the box of Ding Dongs and grabbed two packages of chocolaty heaven. She held one out for him but he gravely shook his head.

“You’re saying no to Ding Dongs?” She ripped hers open and took a big bite, closing her eyes to savor the sweetness. “Your loss.”

There was a day when Derek would’ve razzed her for a good ten minutes over her nutritionally lacking cuisine, but now he stared at the half-eaten cake as if it’d be the death of her. She watched him as she chewed, missing that easy smile that was once such a big part of him.

“Sit,” she said, motioning to the floor in front of the functional, boxy sofa.

“I need to get home.”

“Why? So you can fall asleep watching TV?” she asked on a hunch. The look on his face confirmed he hadn’t just slept in his chair the other night because she’d invaded his bed. She’d bet money he crashed on the chair regularly.

Derek sat heavily on the sofa.

“Not there,” Macey said. “Floor.”

“You want me to sit on the floor.”

“Trust me for once.”

He looked at her warily as she finished off the second Ding Dong and licked the filling off her fingers.

“You just ate two of those things in thirty seconds flat.”

“Yes.”

“And you want me to trust you.”

She nodded and washed her hands in the kitchen sink. “Down,” she said as she approached the sofa.

He lowered himself to the floor with a stoic expression. Macey climbed onto the sofa directly behind him and started rubbing his shoulders. His muscles were so tight he actually flinched when she applied pressure.

“Wow,” Macey said. “You’re one giant knot.”

“Probably from being forced to sleep on the chair by some wayward chick who stole my bed.”

“Right.” Macey worked her thumbs near his spine. “This mess isn’t the kind that happens overnight. Relax.”

“I
am
relaxing.”

She flicked him in the side of the head. “If this is relaxing then I’m the quarterback for the Cowboys.”

“It’s as good as it gets.”

And that’s why he needed her. If he was this twisted up on the outside, she hated to imagine what he was like on the inside.

“Lie down,” she said, getting off the sofa.

Derek looked up at her with something between temptation and annoyance. “You’ve gotten bossy.”

“I’ve always been bossy. I just used to hide it well.” Macey patted the cushion. “You know you want to.”

“No. I don’t.”

“Why not? Your neck is a mess and I’d wager money your back is just as bad.”

“It’s late.”

“The sooner you lie down, the sooner you can go home and sleep on your chair.”

Derek stood with an aggravated grunt. “I won’t fit on that couch.”

She looked at the sofa and looked at him. “You’re right. You’ll have to settle for the floor.” No way could she let him stretch out on her bed. A big, muscled firefighter in her bed would be a very dangerous thing.

He studied her. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

Maybe it was stupid of her to push him but this was something she could do. She couldn’t take away his grief or his pain or any of the other hard-core emotions he was wrestling—or avoiding wrestling—but she could help him physically relax.

Macey stared him down and pointed at the floor.

“You couldn’t follow my mom’s advice,” he muttered as he kicked his shoes off and pulled his shirt over his head. Macey sucked in her breath at the sight of his naked chest. She really needed to be careful what she wished for. Admiring him while he slept was one thing, but touching him? With no shirt? In a different lifetime it would be her own personal nirvana, but now? Torture.

Tough job but somebody had to do it.

He lay on his stomach on the beige carpet that looked almost new. He rested his head on his arms, giving her a fantastic view of biceps, triceps and what have you. In addition to the Longhorn on his arm, he had a tattoo of a firefighter’s cross on the upper left side of his back.

Macey settled on the floor next to him and started working the shoulder blade closest to her, digging into the cords of muscle. As she’d guessed, they were strung tight.

“You need a professional,” she told him as she ran her thumb back and forth over a stubborn knot.

“Does that mean I can go home?”

“Not until you admit this feels good.”

His response was a noncommittal sound in his throat.

After several minutes of deep tissue massage on one shoulder, Macey switched to his right side and started in. “This side’s even worse.”

Derek didn’t say anything, didn’t stir, and she wondered if he’d gone to sleep. Could he have relaxed that much? When she finished, she glanced at his face, and saw his eyes remained closed. She stood quietly, staring down at this beautiful male specimen, trying not to think too hard about how amazing it was to touch him, to feel the strength of him on such a personal level.

To best reach the rest of his back, she tentatively straddled his hips and lowered herself to sit on his butt. His tight, perfect butt.

Forget trying to keep this clinical. She was only human.

She ran her hands over his skin along the waistband of his shorts, from his sides to his spine. She feasted her eyes on the ridges of muscle that disappeared beneath the garment, imagining what he must look like out of it. Digging her fingers into those ridges, she elicited a low groan from him. The sound was erotic, or maybe her mind was just in the wrong place.

“Pressure okay?” she asked in a half whisper.

“More than.”

She couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to make love to this man. What would it be like to touch him wherever she wanted, to have him touch her? To have him
want
her?