Trial by Fire (29 page)

He couldn’t find it in himself to care.

What the hell was he doing?

“Christ, I’m an idiot.”

By the time he’d driven halfway home, he knew he’d never go through with this. Sleeping with Janine was so not the answer to his problems. God, he’d like to think he’d learned a thing or two in the last year.

And if there were any hope of working things out with Kat . . .

Yeah, like that was going to happen.

Even so, he had to set Janine straight as soon as he got home. And somehow bank the fire in his shorts that wasn’t particular about the method of relief.

Howard had a feeling both would be easier said than done.

“You’re crazy, Katherine Frances. Completely certifiable. ”

Wringing her hands against the chill, she scrunched in the driver’s seat of her Beamer and continued to grumble under her breath, more anxious than she cared to admit about where in the ever-loving hell Howard could be at two forty-five in the morning.

If he wanted to stay out until dawn, drinking with his buddies on his nights off, it really was no longer any of her business. But she’d wrestled in vain with sleep, miserable and alone, until she couldn’t stand it another second. She’d needed so badly to talk to him. Set things right somehow.

And the jerk wasn’t home.

Driven by a sixth sense she didn’t understand, she backed out of his drive and parked across the street two houses down, like some sleezeball amateur private eye. Now what? Like she was going to sit here when she had to go to work in a few hours, while
he
got to snooze the day away?

Forget it.

Her hand reached for the keys in the ignition, ready to make tracks—and there came his truck. Unmistakable, the behemoth rumbled up the street toward her, slowing at his driveway to turn in.

Kat ducked, feeling stupid. Why hide when she’d waited to see him? Because she didn’t want him to
know
she’d been waiting on his sorry ass, dammit. Counting to three, she sat upright.

Just in time to see a small sports car pull in behind him. Dark, sleek, and snazzy. The driver’s door opened, and a statuesque woman emerged, long curling hair tinted dark red under the glow of the lights from inside his garage.

Insides turned to water, numb with disbelief, she gaped in shock as the oh-so-perfect object of male lust, dressed in tight Spandex workout clothes, strolled into the garage and met Howard as he stepped from the truck. He closed his door and leaned against it as Red melted into him, palms on his chest, and proceeded to suck the oxygen from his lungs.

Kat’s, too. “Oh . . . Oh, my God.”

Red pushed her hands under his T-shirt, stroking as they kissed for what seemed forever, but was in reality only a few seconds. Then she broke the liplock and one hand slipped south to wriggle past the elastic waistband of his shorts. Howard grabbed her wrist, murmuring what appeared to be a short-lived protest, but she wasn’t deterred. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, resting his hands on her boyish hips.

Fixated on Howard touching Red, his palms sliding up her bare torso to cup the teensy breasts encased in the sports bra, Kat clenched her teeth, pulse pounding a drumbeat in her ears. She braced herself for the gut-wrenching hurt. The pain of betrayal. Instead, she was surprised and gratified to experience a slow burn of seething anger.

Pushing the shorts past his hips, Red freed his cock. His thick, erect cock, arching between the two lovers, ready and willing to give her whatever she desired. The burn in Kat’s blood became a rolling boil.

Once, Howard had told her about a danger in firefighting called a flashover. When the temperature in the upper level of a burning building reached 1,800 degrees Fahrenheit, every single item in sight would simultaneously ignite. If a firefighter wasn’t within a few feet of an exit when the flashover happened, he was a dead man.

Yeah, that was a pretty accurate description for the force that shot Kat into hyperspace when the woman’s slender fingers squeezed his balls. Began to stroke his erection.

Whoosh.

Brain disengaged, Kill-the-Slut function activated.

She was out of the car and stalking up the driveway before she was aware her feet had hit pavement. Zeroed in on the grappling couple, she barely registered Howard dropping his hands, shaking his head, and moving out of her grasp, as yet unaware of his own personal flashover about to fry him in his tennis shoes.

“Janine,
no.
Wait—”

“Get off him, bitch,” Kat snarled, doing a great impression of a demonic voice from the underworld.
Good God, was that me?

The pair sprang apart as though they’d been electrocuted, Howard yanking up his shorts and gaping at Kat, speechless. All of his brains being between his legs, of course.

Janine—
fantastic, now she has a name
—was the first to recover, curving her lips into a sneer. “Haven’t you heard? Three’s a crowd, honey. Harry and I don’t do ménages.”

Red gloated.

Harry
looked sick.

Kat willed herself not to commit murder and stepped close, invading the other woman’s space. To her immense satisfaction, Red retreated a step, a flash of uncertainty chasing across her face. The woman wasn’t secure in her position with Howard at all, had probably been waiting with baited breath to catch him vulnerable. Not that he’d resisted too damned hard.

“Really? Do you do child support?” she shot back before she could think twice about the fabrication. “That makes it a quartet, right? Kinda disturbing when you think about it.” Red frowned, trying to assimilate, obviously not the brightest bulb in the box. Oh, but the poleaxed expression on Howard’s handsome, bloodless face was priceless.

His jaw dropped. “Kat—”

“You,” she ground out, shaking a finger at his nose. “Shut. Up.”

His mouth snapped closed.

“Oh,” Red said, glancing from Kat to Howard. The light dawned. “Oh, wow. A kid? You got your friend here knocked up, and then you turn your back on her and dip your wick in the first partner who happened along?”

Howard’s eyes widened, crimson staining his cheeks. “No, dammit, that’s not true.”

Red made a face. “I’m so out of here. I don’t need this sort of drama, even for a great lay. I divorced one two-timing prick already, and he’ll be paying child support to two different girlfriends until he drops dead of a heart attack.” She snorted at Kat. “Good luck, sugar.”

Problem number one solved. Too bad the haze of rage flared anew, seeking its true target. As Miss Do Me departed, Kat scanned the garage, searching for a weapon. Before she considered the wisdom of her actions, she grabbed a fishing pole leaning against the wall and brandished the thing like a samurai warrior.

Howard lifted his hands in surrender, palms out. “Katherine, this isn’t the way it looks.”

Flashover.

“Bastard!” Raising the rod and reel like an executioner preparing to lop off his head, she let him have it. With a yelp, he unsuccessfully tried to block the tip of the pole whacking his head and shoulders.

“Hey!”

Yeah, this was better than therapy. Much better. A wild euphoria seized her and she proceeded to adjust his attitude, punctuating her point with each stinging blow.

“You—”

“Ow!”

“Sonofa—”

“Ow!”

“BITCH!”

“I wasn’t—”

“Worthless, sorry asshole! I was so fucking miserable I had to come see you!
Make up
with you. How dumb was that?”

“Kat, stop—”

“Your sheets weren’t even cold yet, and what do I find? Your hands all over each other, you primed and ready to nail her—”

“Shit! I said stop,” he yelled, ducking under the pole and rushing her. Snatching the weapon, he hurled it into a corner, where it clattered and broke. He grabbed her arm and shoved her against the side of his truck, chest heaving in helpless anger. “If you’d been paying attention, you’d have realized I was about to refuse her. I was going to send her home, Kat.”

“Oh, right,” she laughed, shaking with adrenaline. With unspent tears.

“It’s the truth,” he insisted, pressing himself into her. “Right before you went postal, I pulled back. Yes, I was aroused, but I didn’t want Janine. I wanted you.”

“Please, don’t degrade us both by playing that song.” To her horror, her voice broke and her vision blurred.

He gripped her arms so hard, his fingers dug into her flesh. Tomorrow, she’d have bruises. But that paled in comparison to the scorching heat of his big body fitted to hers. His erection burrowing into her stomach. Arousal that, a short while ago, had been for another woman.

Despite her best efforts, a tear slid down her cheek. The nice, cozy blanket of rage dissipated, leaving only sorrow.

Howard cursed. “Sounds like a load of bull, but it’s true. I swear to you I never wanted her, no matter how it appeared. I couldn’t sleep, so I got up and went to Hardbodies to work out. She surprised me in the shower—”

“I do
not
want to hear this.”

“I was hurting. About you, about everything going on in my life. I was weak, and I’m so sorry you had to see what you did. But as God is my witness, I didn’t— I couldn’t . . .” His eyes begged forgiveness as he raked a hand through his spiky hair. “Even if you hadn’t shown up, I was going to send her home.”

Gently, he wiped her tears. But they kept coming. The image of them touching one another, of Howard fully erect, knowing he’d gone so far as to bring Janine here . . . oh, God. Her chest burned and ached, the pain so bad she wanted to die.

“Please. He traced her jaw with his thumb. “Please forgive me.”

“It’s not a question of forgiving you. The way we left things, we weren’t seeing each other.” She took a deep breath. “But I don’t know if I can forget, Howard. Ever.”

“Don’t say that,” he whispered, touching his forehead to hers. “Give me another chance. My soul is empty without you. Without you in my arms, nothing else matters.”

Pretty words. The right words. But the wound was still bloody and raw. A sob caught in her throat. “I don’t know if I can. I need to think, and so do you. Maybe you’re just not cut out to give your whole heart to one person.”

She pushed on his chest, twisted out of his arms. Backing toward the entrance to the garage, she took in the defeated slump of his broad shoulders. Shadows were smudged under his dark eyes, devastation etched on his face.

“Don’t go.”

Tears welled in his eyes, and she couldn’t take this anymore. Had to get out of here before she hurled herself into his embrace and let him have his way again.

In the beginning, he’d warned her, hadn’t he?

It’s easy to remain alone when you aim low. No strings, easy sex. Then when she leaves, your heart doesn’t take a beating in the process.

I have a huge learning curve with the long-term deal. . . . The idea scares me a little.

She should’ve listened.

“I’m sorry. Good-bye, Howard.”

“Kat.” Her name was a hoarse plea.

Spinning, she hurried toward her car, half expecting him to follow and stop her. Afraid he would.

Terrified he wouldn’t.

As she reached her car, she saw him still standing beside the truck as if carved from stone. Watching helplessly as she left him, perhaps for good. Lungs aching with harsh sobs, she started the ignition and peeled from the curb. She couldn’t handle his pain and confusion.

Not when she couldn’t deal with her own.

“Hot damn, dinner and a show.” Frank chuckled, biting into a cold, greasy burger he’d picked up at the twenty-four-hour joint off the square.

With his free hand, he hefted the binoculars from the passenger’s seat of his new ride and watched with amusement as the stacked blonde marched up the driveway toward Lieutenant Dumb-ass and the skinny redhead who looked like a praying mantis in comparison. The pair were playing Here’s the Salami as the furious blonde descended on them—much to their surprise and Frank’s delight.

“Busted, asshole.”

The blonde, Kat, as he recalled, flew at them like an angel of wrath, and whatever she said had the redhead making tracks, fast. Then Kat proceeded to snatch a nearby rod and reel and get
all
up in his shit.

Frank hooted in laughter, almost choking on his burger. Whoa, you had to love spunk in a woman.
He’d
never put up with that shit from his bitch, but still. She was giving Paxton ten kinds of hell, so that made it fine by him.

Attention diverted by Paxton’s fleeing would-be fuck de jour, Frank narrowed his eyes as she backed out of the drive and began to pull away. Laying his burger and the binoculars on the seat, he put the wheezing van in gear and followed the redhead, disappointed to have to abandon his post just when the action was getting good.

The payoff, however, was going to be worth the small sacrifice. Time to put in motion the plan that had been simmering ever since Paxton departed the gym with a new slut in tow and a hard-on visible from forty yards.

Time to drive the lieutenant’s lesson home using much more personal methods. The end was near.

Two moves remaining on the game board.

Frank’s dry spell was officially over.