Wildfire (15 page)

“Keep your legs straight. I’ll pull you around so you can get a feel for the ice.”

She followed his instructions, enjoying the sensation of gliding across the smooth surface.

“You’re doing fine!” he praised her. “Now try moving your legs like this.” He showed her the slow, stroking movements. “That’s it!” as she imitated him.

Why, this isn
’
t so hard,
Amanda thought to herself. She became more daring and gradually eased away from Brady, eventually only holding on to his hand, the length of both their arms separating them. That’s when she hit a bump in the ice and slipped, shrieking in surprise. Her fall was prevented by Brady’s quick reflexes as he caught her and wrapped her in the safety of his strong arms.

“How kind of you to take me up on my offer to make a spectacle of yourself!” Brady grinned at her.

“Bradford Gallagher,” she leaned away to sputter.

“I should never have told you my full name,” he sighed ruefully. “You never fail to make use of it.”

She felt his laughter rippling through her.

“You’re too touchy,” Brady teased, his hands lending a new dimension to the adjective as they teased the nape of her neck before toying with her hair. “I like ruffling your feathers.”

“I noticed.”

“Did you now? I wasn’t sure you would.”

“Is that why you try so hard to drive me crazy, so I’ll notice you?”

“Do I drive you crazy?” he inquired with feigned innocence.

“You know you do. Frequently,” she added for good measure.

“Go on,” he prompted. “This sounds like it could get interesting.”

Amanda eyed him in exasperation. “You’re impossible.”

“Is that why I drive you crazy?”

“I’m not going to answer that,” she refused. “What happened to my ice skating lessons?”

“They’re temporarily on hold.”

“So am I,” she wryly noted. “Will you let me go now?”

“Not until you tell me why I drive you crazy.”

“Brady, if you don’t watch out, I’ll tell your sister exactly how she can beat you at Monopoly.”

“You wouldn’t.” One look at her face told him that she would. “Okay, okay. There, you’re free.” He
released her from his embrace. “But I don’t know what you’re going to do with your freedom now that you’ve got it.” This as Amanda struggled to stay upright and ended up clutched in Brady’s arms again. “See what I mean.”

“That’s one of the reasons you drive me crazy.”

“Oh?” ‘

“You’re always right!”

“How clever of you to notice,” he modestly accepted.

“Oh, I can be very clever,” she murmured, easing off her glove and running her hand along the angular curve of his jaw.

Brady lowered his head with deliberate slowness, an unconcealed hunger kindling in his eyes. Amanda’s lips were parted and ready to receive his, their mouths meshing together with magical precision. Shooting sparks flickered behind Amanda’s closed eyes while her heartbeat raced to get ahead. The need for oxygen finally made them pause.

Amanda huskily cautioned, “If you keep this up, the ice is going to melt and then we’ll both end up in the drink.”

“You already go to my head like a potent drink,” Brady husked in return. “And as for what you do to the rest of my anatomy…”

Amanda lifted a quick hand to stem the remainder of his sentence. “There are times, Brady, when words aren’t necessary.” Her wicked contemplation of the unquestionably male contours of his body made him catch his breath. Since her hand was still pressed to his lips, Amanda could feel his abrupt inhalation and smiled knowingly. Brady didn’t stay docile for long, however. He mouthed the cupped hollow of her bare palm, his tongue traveling across the basin. Excited by the erotic movement, Amanda was startled when his strong teeth softly nipped her thumb.

With an exaggerated “Ouch!” she immediately retrieved her hand.

“That was a reprimand from your instructor. Right now I’m supposed to be teaching you how to ice skate, but if you’d care to change the curriculum to a more intimate, indoor sport then that’s fine with me. We should retire to a more suitable location though. A bedroom, perhaps?”

A grin threatened to ruin Amanda’s deliberately shocked expression. “Detective Gallagher, what kind of woman do you take me for?”

“I’m trying to find out, but I don’t seem to be getting very far,” he complained.

When they were teasing each other like this it was hard to remember that an arsonist still plagued the college. But they were forced to remember the very next day, as yet another wastebasket fire was discovered. The students and staff members were in the midst of preparing for final exams, so the fire hazard turned an already hectic situation into something resembling bedlam.

It was a terrible week. Amanda spent several hours each day in staff meetings, devising ways to tighten library security and protect the college’s irreplaceable collection of books. Brady sent an officer to counsel at one of the meetings, but was unable to attend himself due to his increased immersion in the investigation.

The library’s computerized check-out system chose this week,
one of the busiest times of the year, to break down, fraying already-spent nerves of students and employees alike. As soon as the computer system got back on line, three of the library’s four coin-operated Xerox machines went on the fritz. Then there were the two library jobbers both vying for the college’s juicy account. Amanda firmly put them both off; she had no intention of making a hurried decision she might later regret. With all this turmoil it was no surprise that Amanda looked forward to the weekend with more than usual anticipation.

Saturday morning was spent doing the wash and worrying about Brady. She knew he was putting in backbreaking hours at the station, not eating or resting properly. The few brief times she’d spoken to him on the phone this past week he’d sounded exhausted, almost discouraged.

Since Amanda planned on spending the day catching up on household chores, she dressed accordingly. Her jeans were bleached out from innumerable washings, and her flannel shirt was a baggy yet comfortable pick-up from the community hospital’s resale shop. She padded around the house in bare feet, as she was apt to do when home alone. Her hair was seemingly haphazardly pinned on top of her head, several tendrils escaping their loose confinement.

A pair of lightweight headphones rested on her ears and the songs of Simon and Garfunkel filled her mind. She liked listening to music while doing housework and was singing her own soulful rendition of “Bridge over Troubled Waters” when the doorbell rang.

Amanda pulled the earphones down so they rested around her neck like a piece of technological jewelry. She wasn’t expecting any company. Pausing to peek through the living room window, she saw Brady’s Mustang parked out front. What was he doing here? And how could she answer the door dressed like an absolute grub? With a distracted hand, Amanda hurriedly attempted to tidy herself up while Brady rang the bell again.

“I’m coming,” she yelled, shaking her head at the reflection she saw in the hall mirror.

Brady looked exhausted, like he’d been up all night. His unshaven condition added to his haggard appearance. The sensuous, shadow of the beginnings of a beard made his entire countenance seem darker.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call…” he began before breaking off to demand, “What are you doing with my shirt?” His hand whipped out to tug on Amanda’s flannel shirttail.

“Your shirt?” she repeated in confusion. “I don’t have your shirt.”

“Stop looking at me as if I were crazy,” he wearily instructed. “I may be tired, but I’m not that tired. Where’d you get this shirt?”

“From the hospital resale shop. Why?”

“Because that’s where my mother took my good luck shirt last spring. The moment I discovered it was missing I went to the resale shop to find it, but it had already been sold.”

Amanda stared at him in amazement. “Are you trying to tell me that this shirt used to belong to you?”

“It always brought me luck, and God knows I sure as hell could use some right about now.”

Amanda could feel Brady’s banked frustration; it was evident in the tenseness of his stance. Her voice was softly sympathetic as she murmured, “No luck on the investigation?”

“Nothing but a series of dead ends. I just can’t seem to piece the clues together.”

“You look beat. When was the last time you ate?”

“I don’t know. Sometime last night.”

“How about a roast beef sandwich with a bowl of hot soup?”

Brady wearily raked a hand through the dark curls of his hair. “Are you sure it’s no trouble?”

“No trouble at all,” she assured him. “I was going to take a lunch break anyway.”

Amanda expected a teasing comment about her disheveled appearance, but Brady made none. In fact, he was unnaturally quiet. Amanda surreptitiously studied him while they ate their lunch. His face was all angles and shadows, the hooded slant of his eyes accentuated by exhaustion. Tired though he undoubtedly was, he still looked gorgeous. His hair seemed longer than it was the last time she’d seen him, curling down over his ears.

“Maybe you should go home and try to get some sleep,” Amanda made the mistake of suggesting.

“How the hell am I supposed to sleep?” he exploded, “when at any moment some nut might set the whole damn college on fire!”

Amanda wasn’t upset by his outburst; she realized his anger was self-directed. “Brady, you’ve got to get some rest. You’re doing the best you can.”

“Obviously my best isn’t good enough!” Brady smashed his clenched fist on the table with a force that rattled their luncheon dishes. “Damn it, I’m missing something. There must be something, some clue that I’m-overlooking. It’s probably right there, staring me in the face, and I’m too blind to see it!”

He got up and started pacing across the room, hands jammed into his jeans pockets.

“There’s only one thing that could blind you, Brady, and that’s exhaustion. You really should try and get some rest.”

“There’s no point,” he turned to mutter. “I wouldn’t be able to sleep.”

For just one fleeting moment the mask of male invincibility slipped and Amanda caught the vulnerability in Brady’s eyes. It was enough to send her into his arms.

They opened wide to receive her, closing around her with a fierceness that brought tears to her eyes. But they weren’t tears of pain; they were a visible sign of how very moved she was.

Brady was no longer the great protector. Instead, he was the one who needed comfort, so she unstintingly gave it. Hugging him close, Amanda’s loving embrace silently offered sympathy and support. Somehow their problems seemed halved when viewed from this magical circle.

There was no sexual implication in their actions, no passionate excitement as experienced in their previous embraces. This was a time for a more basic universal need, the need for human understanding and consolation. Yet this, too, evoked emotion, a new kind of companionable warmth.

It could have been hours or minutes later when Brady finally eased away to say, “I’d like you to come with me.”

“Where are you going?”

“Someplace special. My place.”

“I thought you said you didn’t want to go home.”

“I didn’t say we were going to my home,” he corrected. “I said it was my place. You’ll see when we get there.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Brady drove to the edge of town, crossing over
the now frozen river. He stopped the car at a small pull-off and said, “We’ve got to walk the rest of the way.”

Although it was only four in the afternoon, the sun was already preparing to set, its glowing rays mellowing the stark whiteness of the snow. “It’s going to get dark soon,” Amanda cautioned.

“I know, but it’s not very far.” He
went around the car, opened the door for her, and held out his hand. “Are you coming?”

She twined her fingers through his. “Yes, I’m coming.”

Fifteen minutes later they were standing on top of a bluff overlooking Deerfield. The same glaciers that had created the area’s undulating landscape had also carved out the bluff they’d just ascended. “It’s beautiful up here. Just like being in the…”

“…mountains,” Brady finished for Amanda. “In fact I used to call this my mountain, until I went to Garmisch and saw what real mountains are like.”

“Have you been coming here long?” Amanda turned to ask.

“Since I was a kid.”

“I never even knew this lookout was up here.’’

“Not many people do,” Brady shrugged. “I prefer to keep it that way.”

“You must’ve brought other people up here?”

“No. I told you this is my place. I’ve never shared it before.”

“Why not?” She tried to catch his averted gaze.

“Because it never felt right.”

“And now it does?”

He nodded, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “It’s peaceful up here, isn’t it?”

“Very.” Amanda graciously accepted the conversational shift. “It feels like we’re on top of the world, far away from all the problems down there.”

“I guess that’s why I come up here. To get away from my problems.”

“But you said you came here as a kid. Were you getting away from problems even then?”

Brady absently tugged her closer, his eyes focused on the distant horizon. “Even kids have problems, Mandy.”

“I know,” she sighed, recalling her own emotion-fraught adolescence.

“You speak as if from experience.”

“Did I sound that bitter?” she laughed, somewhat self-consciously.

“You sounded…” He paused, searching for the right word. “…hurt. What happened?

“It’s a common enough story. My parents got divorced when I was thirteen. It was not an amicable separation. Things got very messy.”

Brady shifted so that he was now slightly behind her, his arms encircling her completely. “I’m sorry.” He murmured the words against her ear.

Amanda relaxed against him, leaning her head back against his shoulder and letting the comfort of his embrace wash over her. “These things happen. You just have to learn from life’s experiences and go on from there.”

“And what did you learn from that experience?” he quietly asked.