Wildfire (11 page)

“Clinical is not a term that applies in relation to you,” Brady dryly returned.

Amanda made no reply as she unlocked the passenger door before striding around the low-slung hood to the driver’s side.

“Are you sure you can handle all this horsepower?” Brady made the mistake of dubiously questioning as she slid behind the wheel.

“I’m going to drive the car, not carry it,” was her tart rejoinder.

“You do have a sense of humor,” he
chuckled, suitably abashed.

“I’d have to around you,” she tossed back.

“Librarians must make more than I thought,” Brady mused.

Amanda shot him a startled look. “What makes you say that?”

“This Porsche.” He patted the dashboard admiringly.

“I bought it used from one of the students when I first came to Deerfield.”

“I’m relieved to hear that.”

“Why?”

“Because I’d hate to think of you as being independently wealthy, or even close to it. The fact that you own your own house is bad enough.”

“What’s bad about that? Most men of my acquaintance find it a definite asset.”

Brady cracked up. “I love the way you word things, Mandy. ‘Men of my acquaintance,’” he repeated with a chuckle and a shake of his head.

“Why am I taking you to the police station?” she demanded in an annoyed tone. “Where’s your car?”

“In for repairs.”

“Both of them?”

“Yep.”

“What would you have done if I hadn’t come along? How would you have gotten back to the station then?” she questioned suspiciously.

“The same way I got out to the college, in a squad car. But then I would’ve had to come back to pick up my men. Besides, you looked like you needed saving from that joker.”

Somehow Amanda doubted that Guy Lox would appreciate being called a joker. He took himself too seriously for that.

By this time they were in front of the police station, for it didn’t take long to get from one place to another in a town the size of Deerfield.

Brady opened his seat belt before turning to her. “Thanks for the lift, Mandy.” He playfully tugged on the renegade strands of honey-gold hair that had escaped her chignon. “I’ll be seeing you.”

But when she did see him it was in the presence of other people. Two more small fires had been discovered, both in the main administration building, and Brady was working overtime, devoting all his energy to the investigation. On the days she didn’t see him in passing she was reminded of his existence by the continual speculations of her coworkers, while at night her dreams were filled with him.

Autumn’s radiance had advanced into its mellow stage, but shades of unaccustomed melancholy dampened Amanda’s Halloween. The neighborhood kids had been ringing the bell all afternoon. Caped wonders held their paper bags out for treats, chorusing their thank you’s as Amanda dropped in miniature chocolate bars. This year there seemed to be an abundance of white-sheeted ghosts and hobos. “An accurate reflection on the state of the economy,” was Amanda’s pessimistic decision.

In an effort to capture some of the gaiety she saw in the children’s faces, Amanda decided to bake a batch of chocolate chip cookies. She creamed the butter and sugar with angry strokes until her arm ached. Interrupted as she was by the constant summons of the front doorbell, it was no wonder that darkness had fallen by the time she put the first batch into the heated oven. Assuming that most of the neighborhood kids had already made their rounds, she was surprised to hear the doorbell ring yet again.

Grabbing a handful of candy, she pulled open the door. There, where she expected to find a group of costumed children, stood Brady. With his hands braced on either side of the door frame, he leaned forward to drop a kiss on her open lips. Amanda’s reaction was unexpected. She tugged him over the threshold and into the house with a force that momentarily startled him.

“I had no idea you were so eager to see me, Mandy. If I’d known, I’d have come trick-or-treating sooner.”

Amanda’s eyes glared her impatience. She knew from experience that the bright porch light illuminated the area so efficiently that it could have passed for a stage. “I don’t like taking part in a neighborhood floor show.”

“I understand,” Brady nodded sagely. “You prefer the private showings.”

Her exclamatory denial was overridden by Brady’s curious, “What’s that smell?”

“Oh, no,” she wailed. “My cookies.”

Brady followed her into the kitchen where he leaned against the countertop, watching her whisk one of the two cookie sheets out of the oven and onto a cooling rack. Unnerved by his leisurely perusal, she wasn’t as cautious as usual while transferring the piping hot cookies and consequently burnt her finger.

“Ouch!” Amanda quickly lifted the injured finger, but Brady’s hand shot out to change its destination from her mouth to his own where he rubbed the tip of his tongue over the reddened area.

“Better?” he asked. The movement of his lips shaping the words against her skin produced a rush of sensuous pleasure.

“Yes, thanks,” was her shaky reply. Amanda removed her hand from further temptation before offering, “You can lick the spoon as a reward.” She held the dough-covered utensil up to his lips.

“There’s plenty here for two.” Brady firmly grasped her wrist and invited, “Join me.”

The spoon was like a giant lollypop between them. Under such close quarters, further contact was inevitable. It began with his lean finger swiping a chocolate chip from her chin and stealing it for himself.

“Hey,” she protested. “That chocolate, chip was on my side.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Brady took great pleasure in denying. “It was on your chin.”

Amanda teasingly stuck out her tongue, whereupon Brady promptly placed a fingerful of batter on its pink tip. “There, now we’re even.”

“No, we’re not.” Amanda aimed her own fingerful of dough at his chin, but was forced to abandon the mission when her hand was captured and guided to his lips. Once there, he seemed to take great pleasure out of dining on it, eventually drawing her entire finger into his mouth. The sensuous implication of his action incited a diffuse pleasure that rapidly spread through her.

His hand tunneled under her hair, impelling her forward. She knew what was coming and welcomed it with expectation. But Brady didn’t merely kiss her; he tasted her, nibbling the succulent curve of her lower lip and relishing the sensitive inside corners before sipping the honeyed nectar within. This was just a foretaste of things to come. The sensual feast continued as his tongue tickled, savored, and toasted her. Amanda’s soft murmurs proclaimed her pleasure, her pliant body indicative of her impassioned state.

The spoon soon lay forgotten on the table as Brady was otherwise occupied with pulling her closer. His hands traversed the curves of her body, nurturing her response and adorning her with delectable caresses. Amanda sighed and moved closer, her arms sliding under his vest to curve around his back. Unlike the first time she’d met him, there was no distraction of a gun to inhibit her explorations.

The thin cotton of his shirt did little to hide the rippling muscles of his back. Amanda was amazed at his remarkable solidness, the decisive breadth of his shoulders in comparison to the firm leanness of his waist. It was as though the maximum amount of power had been packed into the minimum amount of space, resulting in a muscular compactness that bespoke a man in excellent physical condition.

Heady from the magnitude of her reaction, Amanda buried her face in the curve of his neck, inhaling his clean male smell. It was a tangy muskiness mixed with…smoke? Her bemused eyes opened to slowly focus on the gray haze billowing from the oven.

“Oh no, the second batch of cookies!” Pulling away from him, she rushed to open the oven door. “They’re burnt to a crisp!”

“So am I,” Brady murmured with ragged humor.

Amanda didn’t hear him, engrossed as she was with dumping the carbonized remains of the cookies in the garbage.

“It’s no good crying over burnt cookies,” he mockingly advised. “So why don’t you open the surprise I brought you.”

For the first time Amanda noticed the large paper bag sitting on the floor. “What is it?” she cautiously asked, not sure how many more surprises she could take in one day.

“Open it and see,” he instructed, laughing at her expression of reluctance.

The bag’s unexpected heaviness was explained when she opened it and found a large pumpkin inside.

“I noticed that you didn’t have one sitting in your window.” Brady’s explanation was accompanied by a firm warning. “And don’t you dare tell me that you’re too old to be carving jack-o’-lanterns.”

“I wasn’t going to,” she indignantly denied.

“Good.” A congratulatory smile tugged on his lips. “Do you have some newspapers we could protect the table with?”

Amanda found some and supplied the other tools he needed, namely, a marker and a selection of sharp knives. Brady put her in charge of the artwork, with instructions to be as creative as possible.

Half an hour later the hollowed pumpkin had been transformed into a hilariously unbalanced jack-o’-lantern. Its teeth were the most prominent feature, due to the fact that Amanda had miscalculated and ended up with more teeth on one side than the other. The resultant lopsided growl looked more pathetic than frightening.

“Do you have a candle?” Brady asked.

“Why? So we can burn it?”

“How can you talk that way about your creation?”

Amanda slapped down the marker in disgust. “It looks ridiculous. I told you I wasn’t any good at artwork.”

“I disagree. You’ve captured that little man’s entire personality.”

“What little man?” she questioned in confusion.

“Lox. Don’t you see the resemblance?”

Now that he pointed it out, there was a certain likeness. The realization made Amanda laugh until she was practically crying. Brady moved closer, wiping the mirthful tears from her cheeks. “You’ve got beautiful eyes,” he murmured seductively. “They’re the exact color of root beer Popsicles.”

Expecting some poetic compliment, Brady’s down-to-earth turn of phrase set her off again.

“What’s so funny?” he demanded.

“You are,” she choked.

“If that’s the way you react to compliments, I may not give you any more.”

“No, please go right ahead,” she suppressed her laughter long enough to say. “My eyes are like Popsicles. How about my lips? What are they like? Cherry licorice?”

“I think I may have unleashed a monster,” Brady muttered to himself, pulling her laughing figure into a tight embrace. “I hope you keep that smile reserved for me.”

“Which smile?” she questioned.

“The one that warms your lips and adds sparkling carbonation to your root beer eyes!”

That cracked her up again.

Still holding her in a close embrace, Brady couldn’t help but feel the gasp that punctuated her laughter. He rubbed the back of her head in confusion. “What was that?”

“I’ve got the…hiccups.”

“Great. Come on, sit down.” He led her over to a kitchen chair. “Where’s your sugar bowl?”

“Over,” hiccup, “there.”

Brady pulled a teaspoon out of the drawer and dipped it into the sugar bowl. “Here.” He held the spoonful of sugar up to her lips. “Eat it.”

“What for?”

“Just eat it,” he instructed.

Amanda did so, grimacing slightly at the surplus of sweetness.

“There, your hiccups should be gone now.”

She paused, waiting for the next jolt to rock her, but it didn’t come. “It worked!”

“‘O ye of little faith,’” he berated her. “Of course it worked. Now that I’ve helped you, how about repaying the favor?”

“In what way?” she warily inquired.

“Don’t worry, Mandy. I won’t ask for anything you can’t give,” Brady promised, his intimate intonation running up and down her spine.

“What exactly did you have in mind?”

“How about a movie this weekend?” he surprised her by asking.

“A movie?” she echoed.

“Yes, a movie. Why? What did you have in mind?”

“Me?” She quickly shook her head. “Nothing.”

His grin told her that he didn’t believe her. He’d deliberately worded his invitation in such a way that she was bound to misinterpret his intentions. The naughty gleam in his eyes confirmed it.

Their ongoing battle of wits continued as Amanda planned her revenge. “I accept, providing I get to choose the movie.”

Brady would live to regret his agreement. They went to a Saturday matinee. That should have raised his suspicions, but the theater had several features playing, and he naturally assumed they’d be going to either the sophisticated thriller or the war-torn saga. Brady didn’t receive the shock until they were in front of the theater and he asked which she’d prefer.

“
Fantasia.
”

He looked at her in dismay. “But that’s Walt Disney.”

“I know,” she replied, joining the line in front of the box office.

Brady followed her, unequivocally stating, “There’s no way I’m going to go see a Disney movie with a bunch of kids!”

“A deal’s a deal, Brady.” She moved forward a few steps as the line shortened. “You said I could pick the movie.”

“This isn’t fair.”

“It’s a great movie. You’ll love it, you’ll see.” Her promise was accompanied by a reassuring pat on his arm.

Brady’s speaking glance promised retribution at a later date. Once inside, Amanda was all set to head for the concession stand when Brady suddenly grabbed her hand and practically dragged her across the lobby.

“What’s the matter?” she gasped, breathless from running to keep up with him.

“Nothing,” he denied in the darkened interior of the theater. “I just wanted to make sure we got our seats before they’re all taken.”

He didn’t slow his pace as he hurried down the aisle and hustled her into a center row. Furtively looking over his shoulder, he quickly chose a seat and impatiently tugged her down beside him.

Amanda eyed Brady’s slouching form in confusion. He really was acting most peculiarly. “Aren’t you going to take your coat off?”

“No.” He pulled up the collar, partially shielding his face.