Flirting With Fire--3 Book Box Set

by Lori Foster

  Then Josh was behind her, drawing her into his warmth, wrapping those incredibly strong arms around her so she had no choice but to give him his way.

  “Hush now,” he said.

  Amanda felt her mascara run, knew she needed to blow her nose. “It was on the news,” she said, the words coming on their own. “My parents screaming, the firefighters working so hard, dirty and beat but not giving up. They had videos of my mother in her nightgown, curlers in her hair, my sister bawling. And my father, such a stately, dignified man…acting almost insane, fighting the firemen.”

  “Trying to get to the daughter he loves. That’s typical, Amanda.”

  “They showed the videos of me, too, just standing there, not hurt, not even in the house. My hair was wrecked, a tangled mess, and my blouse was buttoned wrong. There were weeds on my clothes and…everyone knew. They knew where I’d been and what I’d been doing and my parents were just devastated.” She squeezed herself tight, but it didn’t help. “It wasn’t only on the local news, it was on every station everywhere.”

  Josh turned her.

  She couldn’t look at him yet so she pushed away and went to the table for a tissue, blowing her nose loudly and then hiccuping. When she did finally look at Josh, she saw his pity, his sad eyes, and she wanted to die.

  “My dad took me to the hospital to see the two men who survived.” The things she’d seen that night would live with her forever. There were still nights when she couldn’t sleep, when she’d close her eyes and relive every frightening, too real moment. “It was so awful. Firemen pacing, wives crying, and they all looked at me like I’d done it on purpose.”

  “No,” Josh said quietly. “I can’t believe that.”

  Memories bombarded her, and she said, “You’re right.” Amanda recalled an incredible incident. “One of the firemen who’d gone inside for me, Marcus Lindsey, told me he had a daughter my age. He told me kids made mistakes and that he didn’t blame me, so he didn’t want me blaming myself. He told me I was too pretty to keep crying.”

  A new wash of tears came with that admission. Marcus Lindsey was an unbelievable man, a hero, like most firefighters. He’d deserved so much better than what had happened because of her.

  Josh touched her hair. “And he’s right. We know the risks inherent in our jobs. Lindsey did what he’s supposed to do.”

  “He spent weeks in the hospital, and he’ll carry the scars for the rest of his life. He’s not a fireman anymore. Neither of the survivors are.” She blinked and more tears rolled down her cheeks.

  Josh plucked another tissue and wiped her face. He was so gentle and tender it amazed Amanda. “What happened was a freak accident,” he murmured, “not a deliberate act, definitely not something to keep beating yourself up for.”

  Amanda couldn’t believe his reaction. “How would you feel? If you’d done what I did, if you’d slipped off against your parents’ instruction to fool around in the woods and someone had died because of it, how would you feel?”

  “There’s no way I can answer that, honey, because it didn’t happen to me.” He tucked her hair behind her ear, rubbed her temple with his thumb. “But I can tell you that I’ve made mistakes, in my job and in my social life. Everybody has—it’s one of the side effects of being human. All we can do is try not to make the same mistakes again, to forgive ourselves, and to make amends.”

  “I’m trying to make amends.”

  “No, you’re driving yourself into the ground with guilt. It’s not at all the same thing.”

  Confusion swamped her. He sounded so reasonable, when there was nothing reasonable about what had happened.

  “Tell you what,” Josh said. “Why don’t you go take a warm shower? Your clothes are dirty and torn and your makeup is everywhere it’s not supposed to be.”

  “Oh.” She started to touch her face, but he caught her hands and kissed her forehead.

  “You look like a very adorable urchin, so don’t worry about it. But I know you’ll be more comfortable if you shower and change. While you do that I’ll go ahead and make some coffee. Are you hungry? I could maybe rustle you up a sandwich.”

  Amanda pushed her hair out of her face and looked around her small house in consternation. She’d bared her soul, then prepared for the worst. But not only wasn’t Josh disgusted, he offered to fix her food.

  He could muddle her so easily. “You plan to make yourself at home in my kitchen?”

  “Yes.”

  Truth was, Amanda didn’t want him to leave. She felt spent, wasted right down to the bone, and she didn’t want to be alone. He wasn’t blaming her, wasn’t appalled or shocked or disapproving. He’d listened and offered comfort.

  It was so much more than she usually got, so much more than she thought she deserved.

  She was selfish enough to want him to stay.

  And realistic enough to know it wouldn’t make a difference in the long run.

  “All right, but no food. I’m not hungry.”

  Josh gave her a long look. “Can you manage on your own?”

  “To shower?” She frowned. “Of course I can.”

  “Spoilsport.”

  Amanda stared. Now he wanted to tease her?

  Smiling, Josh bent and kissed her softly on the mouth. “I’ll be in the kitchen waiting.”

  Amanda watched Josh stroll from the room, a tall powerful man who had invaded her heart and then her home. Despite what she’d just confessed, he appeared to have no intention of withdrawing.

  Amazing. From the start, Josh had seen the worst from her. She’d been first badgering and defensive to gain his involvement in the calendar, then hysterical and tearful while giving him her truths. He knew all her worst qualities and her darkest secret, yet he didn’t leave.

  From deep, deep in her heart, something warm and happy and unfamiliar stirred.

  It scared her spitless, because what would happen when he realized their relationship would never be an intimate one? Would he remain her friend? Somehow, she doubted it. Josh was a very physical, a very sexual man.

  That meant that she had to take advantage of every single second she’d have with him.

  Amanda hurried to get through with her shower.

  JOSH WAITED until he heard the pipes rumble from her shower, then he punched the wall, hurting his knuckles but relieving some of his anger. Luckily, the old schoolhouse was solid so all he hurt was himself.

  He couldn’t remember ever being so enraged, to the point he’d have gladly horsewhipped a few people, starting with himself. Everything that had happened since first meeting her now had fresh meaning. And it hurt.

  He wanted to pass backward in time and save a young lady from a life-altering mistake.

  He wanted to redo about a hundred moments with her, times when he’d been too forward, too pushy. Times when he’d made it clear he wanted sex, when actually he wanted so much more.

  He wanted to tell Amanda that it would be all right. But he just didn’t know.

  Thinking of what she’d likely gone through, what he knew she’d felt judging by the expression on her face during the retelling made him ill.

  Josh believed Amanda’s father loved her, based on what she’d said. He’d seen many people fight to try to save their loved ones, willingly putting themselves at risk. But her father never should have taken her to visit the injured men in the hospital.

  He’d probably thought to teach her a valuable lesson, or perhaps he’d gone strictly out of goodwill, wanting to offer thanks as well as his apologies for what had occurred. But putting Amanda through such an ordeal, making her deal with the accusations wrought from grief, had caused her so much harm.

  People in mourning, people afraid and worried, were emotionally fragile, not given to clear thinking. Of course family members and friends had at first blamed Amanda—they’d needed a way to vent and she’d been far too handy.

  Her father should have protected her from that, not exposed her to it.

  While standing in t
he middle of her kitchen, struggling to deal with his turbulent thoughts, Josh heard the faint tinkle of bells. He paused, lifting his head and listening. The sound came again, louder with the whistling of the wind and he went to the window to look out.

  Nothing but blackness could be seen, and a fresh worry invaded his already overwrought mind. Amanda was too alone here, too vulnerable. She literally lived in isolation with no one nearby if she needed help.

  Josh searched for a light switch and finally located one by the sink.

  A floodlight illuminated the backyard and an incredible display of wind chimes, large and small, brass and wood, colorful and dull. With each breeze, they rang out in soft musical notes.

  He also noted the birdhouses and feeders, dozens of them everywhere, on poles and in the trees.

  With his head lowered and his eyes misty, Josh flipped the light back off and leaned on the sink. Damn, he’d never known a woman like Amanda Barker. She was all starch and hard determination one minute, and so soft and needy the next.

  The shower turned off, jarring Josh out of his ruminations. He rushed through the coffee preparations, noting the fact that her coffeemaker only made three cups, proof positive that she never entertained guests.

  Rummaging through her refrigerator, he found cheese and lettuce and mayonnaise. He remembered how little she ate and made two sandwiches, one and a half for himself, a half for Amanda. He’d just finished putting pickle slices on a plate and cutting the sandwiches when she appeared.

  Josh looked up, and smiled. Amanda’s face was still ravaged—her eyes were puffy, her nose pink, her lips swollen and her cheeks blotchy. But the oil and blackening was gone, as was her makeup. She’d tied her hair onto the top of her head, but she’d been hasty with it and long tendrils hung down her nape, around her ears.

  Though she was bundled up in a white chenille robe, Josh could see her pale yellow thermal pajamas beneath and the thick white socks on her feet.

  Her hands clutched the lapels of the robe and she said, “I told you I wasn’t hungry.”

  Josh lied smoothly, without an ounce of guilt. “But I am, and I hate to eat alone. Even you ought to be able to choke down half a cheese sandwich.”

  While she stood there hovering just out of his reach, Josh cleared her table. He neatly stacked a small mountain of papers and photographs and transferred them to the washer, the only uncluttered surface available.

  Evidence of her continued efforts was everywhere; the papers he’d just moved, contracts, old calendars, fund raising schedules and event planners.

  “Can I ask you a few things, Amanda?”

  She braced herself as if expecting an inquisition on the fires of hell. “Yes, of course.”

  Her guilt was so extreme, he knew she wouldn’t give it up easily. She’d been living with it for seven years and it was now a part of her. “If you’re not interested in getting cozy with a guy, why do you dress so sexy?”

  Even without makeup, her big brown eyes looked lovely, soft with long lashes that shadowed her cheeks when she blinked.

  “I don’t. I wear business suits.”

  Business suits that in no way looked businesslike. They had nipped waists and above the knee thigh-hugging skirts. And those sexy shoes she wore…

  Josh had his own theories, but he wondered if Amanda realized the connection that she’d made.

  The night of the fire, by her own account, she’d been caught disheveled, her activities apparent from her rumpled appearance. Now she was always dressed impeccably, polished from her hair to her high heels. With every tidy suit she donned, she made a statement. But she also emphasized that she was a woman.

  “Your suits are sexier than a lot of miniskirts.” Josh wasn’t a psychologist, but it seemed obvious to him. “You also wear stockings and high heels.”

  She pulled out a chair to sit, and then picked up a pickle slice, avoiding his gaze. “No one knows that I wear stockings.”

  Josh drew his chair around next to her. “I do.”

  She glanced at him and away. “You wouldn’t have if things hadn’t gotten out of hand.”

  “Okay, let’s look at this another way. You know what you’re wearing. So why do you?”

  She chewed and swallowed before answering. Her cheeks colored. “Sometimes,” she whispered, measuring her words, “I don’t feel much like a woman. I suppose it’s my way of…balancing things. For me, not for anyone else.”

  Josh’s heart pounded. She was trusting him, sharing with him. “You make yourself feel more feminine because you’re a virgin?”

  She shook her head. “No. Because I’m frigid.”

  He wasn’t at all convinced of that, but he’d argue it with her later. “I guess it makes sense. But I gotta tell you, I can’t imagine a sexier or more feminine woman than you. With or without experience.”

  As more color rushed to her face, Amanda stared hard at another pickle slice and then picked it up.

  Josh smiled. He had her confused and that was nice for a change. Maybe he’d eventually get her so confused she’d forget her ridiculous guilt.

  “What about this house?” he asked. “If your parents are rich, why the tiny home? And why a Volkswagen? I pegged you as more of a Mercedes gal.”

  She lifted the bread on her half of a sandwich, looked beneath critically, then replaced it. Since she’d only had mayonnaise in her refrigerator, no mustard, he didn’t know what she’d expected to find.

  “I love this house, so don’t go insulting it. I’m just me and I don’t need much room. And my car runs great. When other cars won’t start in the cold, she always kicks over and gets me where I’m going.”

  “That’s not what I’m asking and you know it.”

  “I know.” She sighed. “Truth is, I live in a small house and drive an economical car because that’s all I can afford. I only have what I earn, and it’s not that much. But,” she added, giving him a look, “I’d have bought this house regardless. I do love it, and now, after being here for a while, I can’t imagine living anywhere else.”

  “What about your family?”

  “You mean what about the family coffers?” She shrugged. “My father and I had a major falling out. Since we weren’t close emotionally, I couldn’t use him financially. I decided to make it on my own.”

  “What did your father have to say about that?”

  “He was naturally furious that I refused his money, doubly so when I took out student loans to finish paying for my college tuition. He didn’t think I’d make it, but I’ve proven him wrong. I have to keep an inexpensive car and house to do it, but I’m totally independent and I like it that way.”

  Josh watched her bite into her sandwich and waited until she’d swallowed to ask, “What caused the falling out?”

  She waved a negligent hand, but her big sad eyes darkened again. “What I did, the fire and the damage—”

  His back stiffened, his muscles tightened. “He blamed you?”

  “Oh, no, never that. But he’s never understood how I feel, either.”

  “You didn’t cause the fire, Amanda.”

  “No, but I sure caused a lot of the damage. As my mother used to say, a house can be quickly rebuilt, but a damaged reputation is impossible to repair.”

  Disgust filled him. Josh was thinking rather insulting things about the mother until Amanda clarified, “My mother said that in regard to herself—she’d been seen on camera, in her robe and her curlers.”

  “She was worried about her appearance in the middle of the house burning down?”

  “My mother wouldn’t normally be caught dead without her makeup. She was mortified. My whole family was. And it was my fault.” Amanda peered up at him. “What she said was true, at least when applied to me.”

  Josh frowned. “Your reputation is that of a beautiful, giving woman who works hard at helping others.”

  “To some. To those who don’t know it all.”

  “To anyone with any sense.”

  Amanda s
tared over his shoulder. “All of us had our lives, our backgrounds thrown out there to be scrutinized. Everyone knew the girl who’d been screwing around in the woods while a man died trying to rescue her, and they knew my family, my sister who was younger than me, the mother and father who had raised such an irresponsible child.”

  “Amanda, damn it…”

  “That’s what the papers called me, ‘irresponsible.’ All things considered, it’s not such a horrible insult.” She picked at the crust on her sandwich, pulling it apart. “Things quieted down when I first went away to college. Problem was, though, after about a year and a half, I got another boyfriend. Big mistake, that.”

  “Every college kid dates, Amanda.” He could already guess what had happened, and it made him want to shout.

  “I shouldn’t have. I should have learned.”

  “Bullshit. You were getting on with your life. That’s what we’re supposed to do.”

  “Sometimes,” she agreed without much conviction. “But not that time. I thought I liked this guy a lot. He was popular and fun and outgoing. When he wanted to make love to me, I couldn’t. It literally turned my stomach to go beyond kissing.”

  Josh remembered how she’d clung to him, how hot and open she had been. He refused to believe that what had happened with a boy in college would hold true with him. She’d been young then, and college boys weren’t known for technique or patience.

  “I broke things off with him,” Amanda explained, “and he got offended. I guess I wounded his male vanity by not getting…aroused by him. He told everyone I was a cold bitch and a tease, and the next thing I knew, someone remembered my name and the whole story was there again.”

  Hands curled into fists, Josh said, “I gather he spread it around to salve his own ego?”

  “Yes. My father was outraged. He wanted me to press charges against him. Sexual harassment, if you can believe that, and slander even though what the guy said was true. I refused, and that’s when I took over all my financial obligations.”