Sparked by Love

by Peggy Bird

  Shannon was apparently equally at a loss for words. She could barely get out the man’s name. “Jer … Jeremy? What … why …? I don’t understand.”

  His eyes wild, Jeremy Vincent spit in Leo’s direction then began to scream at him, “You fucked up the best deal I’ve ever had. Because of you Shannon won’t go to Vegas with me. And if I can’t get her to Vegas, I won’t get a cut of Marty’s inheritance. You deserved to have your work ruined.”

  “What inheritance?” Shannon asked.

  “The half million your grandfather left to Marty if he made an effort to get you back in his life. The proof to the lawyer who’s handling the estate was that you take part in his wedding. Marty made a deal with me—fifty thousand if I got you there. But because of this fucker, I’m screwed and so’s Marty. The money will go to some charity now.”

  “You’re selling Shannon short, Jeremy. I had nothing to do with her decision. She made up her mind all on her own.”

  “That’s not possible. She’d never do it on her own. She wanted him to pay attention to her too much. You convinced her to do it. So you had to pay.”

  Before Shannon could say anything, the sound of running footsteps and a man saying, “Don’t anybody move,” announced the arrival of the police.

  Leo could tell from the unsteadiness of the flashlight beam on Jeremy’s face that Shannon’s hand was shaking. He didn’t know if she was scared, angry, or just confused. He knew he was mad as hell that this jerk had not only wrecked his work but had insulted Shannon and confirmed the worst about her father.

  “What’s going on here?” the first officer to arrive asked. “Who are you?” He moved his flashlight beam over the three people in front of him. His colleague did the same when he got to them.

  “Thank you for getting here so quickly,” Shannon said. “I’m Shannon Morgan, the one who called 911.” She squinted into the light from the cop’s flashlight. “You sound like one of the officers I talked to yesterday.”

  “Yeah, I’m Officer Tomlin, Ms. Morgan. What’s going on?” he repeated.

  Shannon and Leo gave the Cliffs Notes version of what happened, while the second officer secured Jeremy’s .22. After Leo got off him, Jeremy was secured, too—in cuffs. He went with the officer to his patrol car.

  Shannon and Leo led the first officer to her house where she made another pot of coffee. The two of them gave a more detailed report of what happened. A half hour later, the cop left.

  Leo watched the patrol car pull away from the curb then closed and bolted the door before turning to Shannon who was sitting on the couch. “He’s gone. It’s all over. Finally.”

  Shannon said nothing. He thought he could see tears beginning to fall down her cheeks. “Are you okay, baby?”

  She still said nothing.

  He sat beside her and took her in his arms. As soon as her head was on his shoulder, she broke into sobs. When the tears had subsided, she said between gulps and hiccoughs, “You’re right. Everything’s over. I have to face the fact I never had a father and never will. Everything I tried to do to get him in my life was a waste of my time. I was stupid and foolish and … ”

  “Brave enough to make yourself vulnerable and courageous enough to go after what you needed and … ”

  “You don’t have to make me sound like a hero. Heroine. Whatever. I’m more like comic relief.”

  Leo pushed her away so he could look her in the eye. “Very few people I’ve ever known would have the guts to do what you did. You went after what you wanted. And when you finally realized you’d never be treated the way you deserved, you cut your losses. Be sad about losing the chance with your dad but don’t beat up on yourself. It wasn’t your fault it didn’t work out. It was his. He doesn’t deserve you.”

  She went into the kitchen and came back with tissues. “He was just using me to get the money. I’m sure he wouldn’t have had anything to do with me after he got it. What do you want to bet he drops Louise now that he won’t have a wedding to prove to the lawyer we’re reconciled? I’m not sure I feel more sorry for her if she gets dumped or if he actually marries her.”

  After a few shuddery sighs, she said, “I think I’ve cried my last tears over him. I hope I have.”

  “How can I help change your mood?”

  “Tell me there wasn’t much damage to your glass.”

  “I’ll have to wait ’til morning to find out for sure, but he seemed to have been shooting at only the one piece. If I’m right, I’ll take down whatever’s left of the piece and call it good. I can’t replace it without blowing more glass, which isn’t gonna happen between now and the Fourth.”

  “I’m so sorry you got caught up in my drama.”

  “Hey, it’s all right.” Leo took her chin in his hand and kissed her. “You had no way of knowing what Jeremy and your father were up to.”

  “I should have seen that Jeremy and my father are peas in a pod. Neither one thinks about anyone but himself. And Jeremy had done crazy things before, like leaving his job and me for the Pacific Coast Trail. But I really didn’t think he’d go after you.”

  Leo smiled. “You know, when I think about it, I might have some sympathy for him. I mean, I was going crazy a couple days ago when I thought I’d lost you.”

  “So you’re saying I should be proud I drive men nuts?”

  “Something like that.” He kissed her again. “It’s late and you need sleep. How about I make some of the chamomile tea and take you upstairs and rub your back?”

  “What about Walter? You’ve been gone an awfully long time.”

  He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “I’m sure he’d be happy you thought of him, but I took him to my sister’s because I didn’t know how long I’d be here. I called her a while ago and made sure it was okay for him to stay the night. We could call and wake them up to ask how he is, if you’re really concerned.”

  She laughed. “I guess it can wait ’til morning.”

  • • •

  By the time Leo made the tea and brought it to her bedroom, Shannon had undressed and was burrowed down under the covers.

  “You look like you’re about out for the night. Drink your tea and I’ll rub your shoulders.”

  She sat up and took the mug from him, watching to see how he’d react when he realized she was naked under the covers.

  “Um, Shannon, don’t you want to put something on? I mean … ”

  “Don’t you like me in bed with you naked?”

  “You know I do. But you need sleep.”

  “I need you, Leo.” She put the mug on the bedside table and reached out her arms to him. “I’ve missed you.”

  Leo was out of his clothes in record time and under the sheet with her, pressing his bare chest against her breasts, skin to skin, heat to heat.

  “I missed you, too, Shannon. I never want to be without you again.”

  She took his face in her hands, knowing the desire in her eyes matched what she saw in his. “Never again. We’ll always be together. You. Me.” She paused for a heartbeat or two. “Walter.”

  Leo threw back his head and laughed long and hard, joy mixed with relief and love. “I knew it. I knew it was my dog keeping you interested.”

  “What’re you going to do about it, hot shot?”

  “This. I’m going to do this.” Sliding his hands down to her hips, he pressed his erection against her body; she ground her hips against him in response. When he lowered his mouth to hers and claimed her with a hot, wet kiss, she moaned her pleasure. It was as if they’d been apart months, not days, the need for him was so sharp, so all-encompassing. She knew he felt the same need, could feel it in his kiss, in his hands roaming her body, caressing, bringing heat to every inch he touched. With his knee, he separated her legs and settled himself between them. “And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  “Oh, God, I hope not.” She pulled him to her with eager arms.

  His kisses felt like the sweet, soft brush of butterfly wings at first, but i
n only a few moments, desire took over where sweetness had been. He locked his mouth on hers, nipping and nibbling at her lips. She returned the kiss, sucking at his lower lip, exploring his mouth with her tongue, tangling, slipping, sliding in a sensuous dance with his.

  When he moved from her mouth to her neck, she arched toward him to encourage him to keep going, to salve the ache in her breasts with his mouth. He needed little encouragement. With one hand he massaged her nipple into a hard, pebbly point. With his mouth, he licked and suckled the other.

  But even that wasn’t enough. She pushed on his shoulders, directing him to the other ache, the one between her legs, where all the heat from his kisses had migrated, where she was almost frantic to feel him touch her, kiss her, love her.

  Slowly, carefully, sinuously he began to lick the folds of her sex. Before he had barely touched her clitoris, she came in a spectacular climax. She was still reeling from it when he whispered, “Protection. Shannon, do you have any protection?”

  “Umm, protection. Yes. Bedside table.”

  She never heard the drawer open or the packet ripped. She didn’t see him cover himself. All she knew was on the downside of one climax he had thrust inside her body and was finessing her back up the slope to another. It didn’t take long. This time he was with her. And the fireworks were amazing.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The Fourth of July weather was better than anticipated, sunny with a few clouds but no rain in the offing. Shannon ate breakfast at five then dressed in her usual July Fourth clothes—navy blue walking shorts, red sandals, a white halter-necked top with its own wrap-around tie belt—and walked to work. Which meant crossing Evergreen Boulevard to the parade grounds on what was the longest workday of her year. She joined the work crew at six and knew she’d be lucky to get home by midnight.

  Her first job was to make sure the main stage for the live music was ready for the noon start. It was easy to check off her “to do” list—the city crews always did a great job. Next, she checked with each vendor in turn, making sure they were happy with things. Or at least with everything she had control of. She put out a couple fires—one vendor didn’t get the electricity she’d asked for. Another swore his special folding chair had been stolen by a neighboring vendor and was on the verge of starting a fistfight. Shannon got power to the one and found the chair under the display table of its owner for the other. A couple vendors had the usual concerns about whether there would be enough people to cover the costs of being there, but with the expected 70,000 people coming from all over the region, Shannon assured them they would do just fine.

  She didn’t have much chance to see how Leo was doing. His plan was to mount the glass in the entrance kiosks with Giles and his friends from Firehouse Glass, so she assumed that’s where he was. The information booth he’d staff for the rest of the day was set up. Under a white canopy, he’d placed two display tables covered in a red-white-and-blue patterned fabric. On them were brochures and flyers about the Community Foundation, which had funded his installation, information about local glass studios and hot shops as well as his other work. Posters on foam core board explained the fireworks display.

  It was all on track for the 8 a.m. opening.

  Shannon was about to sneak across the street for a second cup of coffee when a pair of strong arms circled her waist and snuggled her against a muscular chest, while the owner of the arms and chest nuzzled her neck.

  “Good morning, whoever you are,” she said.

  “Whoever I am? If I lick you like Walter does, will you recognize me?”

  “Oh, Leo. I recognize your voice now.” She turned with a grin, a giggle, and a kiss. “I’m going to get coffee. Want some?”

  “Love some. Do you have enough for three more?”

  “No, but I can make enough. Giles and the guys?”

  “Yeah. We were finishing up the kiosk at the east end of the street when I saw you. Giles chased me away because he said I was paying more attention to you than I was to the glass. I promised coffee in return.”

  They got the coffee organized. Leo gave Shannon a tour of the final pieces of glass to be installed. It was marvelous in the daylight. She could only imagine how fabulous it would be as it got dark and the lights began to play on the pieces.

  The day went by in a blur. When she wasn’t putting out figurative fires with the vendors and artists, or helping get performers to the right place at the right time, Shannon spent time with Leo. It was fun to see the easy way he talked to the curious visitors who had dozens of questions about his glass. He seemed to love explaining the process, especially to kids, and probably filled the classes of every glass teacher in town. Local television stations taped Leo talking about his work and planned to add footage of the lighting when it went live. All the local papers were there, too, as was, to Leo’s delight, the Associated Press stringer. She did a long interview with him and promised to get it out on the wire along with photos.

  And there was a steady stream of Leo’s friends and family who’d come especially to see the installation. Amanda St. Claire, her husband, daughter, and stepsons were there; so were Giles and his boyfriend and all the guys from Firehouse Glass. Cathy and her new boyfriend dropped by. The entire Wilson clan—siblings, spouses, children, and parents—was there in force. The only one missing was Walter. He was in doggie daycare because no animals were allowed on the grounds. And even if they had been, Leo wouldn’t have brought him because the sound of the real fireworks would have frightened him.

  About eight-thirty, when the natural light began to fade some, Leo brought out his laptop and the big experiment with lighting the glass began. He brought up the program, hit the right keys, and they waited. At first nothing happened. It didn’t seem to be working. But then, the lights around them began to flash on and off in a random order. Gradually, more and more people gathered around the places where the glass was hung to watch the show, oohing and ahhing at the sight. Kids ran from one place to another trying to figure out the sequence of the lights. When they realized there was no pattern, they tried to guess which firework would be lit next.

  It worked exactly as Leo had envisioned it. The brilliant colors of the glass seemed as bright as the real fireworks, and the quick flash of light from the spot gave the impression of an explosion. Even the music from the group performing on the main stage seemed to work with his plan.

  A few minutes before ten, Leo shut off the display to disappointed sounds from the crowd. But they weren’t disappointed for long.

  “Look. It’s officially the Fourth of July,” Shannon said as the sky lit up with various colors and shapes and the sound of the explosions reverberated for blocks. “The real fireworks have started.”

  Leo pulled her onto his lap and kissed her temple. “No, baby, the real fireworks will be later, at your house.”

  And they were.

  More from This Author

  (From Falling Again by Peggy Bird)

  “He knows more than he told me. I can see it on his face. But how the hell can I get him to say it out loud?” Fiona McCarthy muttered to herself, frowning at the notes she’d hastily scribbled after her lunch with a just-departed Senate staffer. Her frustration at her inability to get more out of him was at stratospheric levels. If only she had the nerve to chase him across Capitol Hill and stick to him like a tick until he told her what she wanted to know.

  She was enjoying the image of riding piggyback on the staffer, yelling her questions in his ear while he tried to go about his business, when a male voice interrupted.

  “Fiona? I don’t know if you remember me. We met about six months ago in Portland.” The man belonging to the voice was standing beside her table, a leather jacket in one hand and a battered messenger bag slung over his other shoulder.

  When she looked up she quickly shifted to what she hoped was a welcoming expression. “Of course I remember you, Nick. We met at your sister’s house, Danny and Jake’s engagement party.”

  She was not like
ly to forget him. Six-feet-something of broad-shouldered, slim-hipped male. Chestnut brown hair tamed with some sort of product to keep it tousled and in place at the same time. Carefully maintained fashionable stubble, which didn’t manage to hide dimples when he smiled, as he was doing now. Sleepy, just-got-out-of-bed hazel eyes capable of melting the knees or any other part of a woman’s anatomy.

  Add a small gold hoop earring and a gold stud in his left ear, cargo pants he might have had tailor-made, a shirt setting off a better set of chest muscles than any she’d ever seen, (dressed or undressed) and if she hadn’t known it before, she knew from seeing him she wasn’t in Oregon any more. No one in Portland looked this good.

  Ah, yes. Portland. Where her friend Amanda—his sister—lived. The sister who called him baby brother. The baby brother who was, from the way Amanda talked, barely out of his teens. Since Fiona didn’t think she was old enough to qualify as a cougar, it meant her less than platonic thoughts about Nick made her a cradle robber. Not how she wanted to think of herself. Which was the important point to keep in mind; not how hot he looked.

  It was also important to keep in mind how she’d met him. He’d blown into Oregon on an unannounced visit and proceeded to command—no, demand—the attention of everyone at a party he hadn’t been invited to. Then, just before she left the party he’d done the “we should get together sometime” thing with her. Of course, he never asked how to get in touch with her. Not that she’d have given her number or address to him. Probably.

  At the party he kept saying he didn’t want to hog the spotlight, but he didn’t do much to keep it from happening. Just like every other picture taker she knew, he thought his glamorous overseas assignments made him a star. Probably even a better reporter than the wordsmiths like her who pecked away at their computers all day in a nice safe office. The hell it did. Journalism wasn’t about photographs; it was about words, stories that changed people’s lives and opinions. If he wanted to move people with images, he should have majored in film studies.