Flash and Fire

by Marie Ferrarella

  “No, I know my way around very well.” The way he looked at her left no doubt about his meaning. “But you looked like you had a lot of groceries to handle.”

  She gave him what she hoped was a particularly scathing look. It did no good. He was still there, still looking at her with eyes that shimmered a liquid blue, like a clear lagoon. But lagoons hid reefs beneath their waters, and she wasn’t about to run the risk of being dashed up against one of them.

  “That’s not all I have to handle.” She meant the remark to be off-putting. It obviously wasn’t.

  As her legs swung out, Amanda saw the lazy way his eyes traveled up the length of her limbs, saw the look of hot approval.

  Yes, he was trouble, she thought even as a shiver ran up her spine.

  She ignored the hand he offered. “I don’t need your help, Alexander.” Turning her back on him, she circumvented the front of the car and went to the passenger’s side. Christopher raised his arms to her urgently. “I have a housekeeper, remember?”

  “Yes, but she has her hands filled with Christopher, remember?”

  She heard the mocking note in his voice. He would remember her saying that.

  Deliberately ignoring Pierce, she started to unfasten Christopher from his seat and discovered that the boy had already taken care of one of the harnesses by himself. It was completely off his shoulder and lay in his lap.

  Christopher laughed as if he could read his mother’s mind and was very pleased with himself.

  “Regular little Houdini, isn’t he?” Pierce remarked. “He gets that from his mother, I see.”

  Amanda fisted her hands at her waist. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

  His eyes laughed at her. “You were trying to lose me when you drove out of the parking lot.”

  “Only because it’s against the law to run you over.”

  He laughed again. It occurred to Pierce that women didn’t usually make him laugh.

  The front door opened behind them. Carla emerged from the house, sneezing. Amanda almost breathed a sigh of relief. Reinforcements.

  Maybe if she continued to ignore him, Alexander would finally give up and leave. It was certainly worth a try. She turned toward Carla.

  “How’s your sinus attack doing?”

  Christopher’s high-pitched squeal announced his displeasure at being neglected, and Amanda lifted him out of the car seat. She set him down on the ground.

  “Better,” Carla answered.

  It certainly didn’t sound any better, Amanda thought. Carla sniffled into a handkerchief, then shoved it into the deep pocket of her robe. Her eyes grew wide as she looked from Amanda to Pierce. First doubt, then an almost disbelieving recognition passed over her face.

  Carla blushed. If it was him, he was even better-looking in person. A lot more rugged.

  She pointed at Pierce as if the very act verified his existence and identity. “Hey, you’re—“

  “An uninvited pest,” Amanda ended the sentence for her. She thrust a bag of groceries at the younger woman.

  But Carla apparently wanted to hang around for the view. Rather than taking the bag into the house, she held the grocery sack against her chest, staring in wonder at Pierce.

  Amanda stopped short of throwing up her hands. Instead, she turned to face the source of her irritation. She didn’t know exactly what his game was, or why she had been chosen to play. But she didn’t play games and she wasn’t about to start now.

  “Look, Alexander, I know your type.”

  Pierce leaned over and took another bag out of the trunk. “Do you now?”

  Amanda snatched the bag away from him. She’d had enough. “Yes, I do. And I’m not interested. I was married to someone like you for three long, miserable years.”

  He made a mental note to look at her bio profile again. Maybe there were things he’d missed the first time through. And things he could follow up on. He liked being thorough and leaving little to chance.

  “Three years?”

  “Yes.” She took another bag before he was able to and balanced it on her hip. But when she turned to walk away, Pierce laid a hand on her arm, forcing Amanda to look at him.

  “And he let you go?”

  “Let” wouldn’t have been the word she would have used, but she wasn’t about to launch into any explanations. “Yes.”

  He shook his head slowly, and she found herself momentarily mesmerized by the look in his eyes.

  “Then it wasn’t anyone like me, because if I had had you, Mandy, I wouldn’t have let you go.”

  He wasn’t sure where the words had come from. Maybe he was flying on automatic pilot. Women liked hearing that they were unique, even though they were all the same.

  Or maybe he’d said them because, in a way, Amanda was unique.

  Her heart skipped two beats even as she called herself a fool. Damn, but he was good. She was beginning to understand why Sheila in accounting had closeted herself with Pierce last week.

  Sheila might have, but she wasn’t about to, Amanda reminded herself. Not now, not ever. She prided herself on the fact that she could finally see past broad shoulders, a sensual smile, and, in his case, a great tight end. And what she saw was a void.

  “Maybe you wouldn’t have had a choice in the matter,” she retorted.

  She didn’t know what had made her tell Alexander that she had been married, let alone for how long. He had no business knowing anything about her private life. It was just that, private.

  She turned toward Carla, who was still standing there, transfixed.

  “Let’s go, Carla,” she prodded. Carla blinked and seemed to come to life. She began to move to the front door like a woman in a trance.

  “Christopher.” Amanda looked around for her son and saw that the boy had his hand in Pierce’s. Despite the fact that she had called him, he made no move to come to her. She knew that she could try to push him along, but that wouldn’t have given her any satisfaction at the moment.

  “Christopher.” She smiled at him. “I have chocolate in the house for you.”

  Christopher immediately bounded into the house just ahead of her.

  “My favorite’s bittersweet,” Pierce said.

  Just like you are. Or are you just sweet, with bitter edges that can be nibbled off?

  Amanda stopped in the doorway and looked over her shoulder, giving him a quizzical look. “What are you talking about?”

  “Chocolate. My favorite type of chocolate is bittersweet.”

  If he thought he was going to talk his way into her house, he was dead wrong. She had better things to do than feed him and his ego. “Nice to know,” Amanda answered coldly.

  She crossed the threshold. He was two steps behind her.

  Using the point of her elbow, she slammed the door behind her, leaving Pierce standing on the front step. As it cut him off, the last thing in the world she expected was to hear him laugh again.

  She heard the sound as she walked away. Damn, but she hated to be his source of entertainment.

  Chapter Twelve

  Amanda had just managed to walk into the kitchen and set the two grocery bags she was carrying down on the gray-tiled counter when the doorbell rang.

  No, it can’t be him. Not even Alexander would be that pushy.

  Carla shuffled into the room right behind her carrying the last two bags. She heaved a heavy sigh as she placed them next to the others.

  The doorbell rang again. Amanda glanced at Carla. “Are you expecting anyone?”

  Carla shook her head and then sneezed into her handkerchief. “Only Death.”

  Never let it be said that Carla didn’t have a flair for the dramatic, Amanda thought. She could turn a hangnail into a rapidly progressing case of gangrene.

  Amanda patted the woman’s shoulder. “I’ll take care of the groceries after I get the door; you take Christopher into the family room.” She saw the pained look on Carla’s face and a wave of sympathy washed over her. “Why don’t you call your mother
while you’re watching him play? Maybe it’ll make you feel better.”

  Carla’s countenance improved measurably. With renewed vigor and purpose, she hustled Christopher toward the family room.

  Now maybe she’d have a little peace. Amanda glanced toward the front door.

  The doorbell rang a third time just as she reached for the doorknob. “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

  She opened the door. Pierce was standing there, filling up the entire doorway. Amanda couldn’t believe the audacity of the man.

  His mouth lifted in a half smile. “Not alone, I hope. It would be such a waste.”

  With a great deal of difficulty, she resisted the urge to slam the door in his face. Her patience was badly frayed.

  “Why have you singled me out like this?”

  Because you’re preying on my mind like an endless melody and I don’t like it.

  Pierce shook his head slowly. “Mandy. Mandy, where are your manners?” His chiding tone irritated her. She gritted her teeth. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

  He leaned his hand on the door just in case she was tempted to swing it shut.

  “No.” She tested the door subtly and discovered that it wouldn’t budge. “And I wish you’d stop calling me Mandy.”

  “Why?”

  Amanda raised her chin. Defiantly, she leaned against the door. She wondered if she was going to have to call the police to get rid of him. No, she decided, she was going to do this on her own. She didn’t need someone running interference for her with Alexander. She could take care of someone like him herself.

  “Because I don’t like it.”

  She spat out the words, but he remained unconvinced. “Oh, you like it, Amanda, I can see it in your eyes.” Without making a single movement, he seemed to be standing closer to her, breathing in her space. “You don’t lie very well. Not to me.”

  So now he was a seer as well as an irritant. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

  “I never do that. I don’t have to.” He saw her eyes glint. He gently pushed the door open wider. “It’s hot standing out here on your doorstep. I’d surely appreciate a cold glass of water.”

  It was hot all right. And the way he was looking at her was making it several degrees hotter. Still, she kept her hand on the door, denying him entrance into the house. “Didn’t the wicked queen use that excuse on Snow White to get into her cottage?’

  It wasn’t her cottage he was interested in getting into. He wanted to discover the taste of her mouth. To learn if she was as sultry as she looked. If her skin was soft all over, like her face. And if she cried out when she peaked.

  “I don’t know. I’ve never read fairy tales.” And there had never been anyone to read them to him.

  Amanda’s eyes pinned him. “How about to your five nieces and nephews?”

  He could almost read her mind. Nice try. I don’t trap that easy, Mandy.

  “I take them to the park instead. They don’t sit still long enough for stories.”

  He smiled at her beguilingly. It was the look he used when he was working to disarm the defenses of people who were initially disinclined to talk. He’d discovered that it generated confidence. But Amanda appeared to remain unmoved. A challenge.

  “C’mon, Mandy, I brought you a magnum of champagne. Can’t you find it in your hard Yankee heart to spare me a little water?”

  For a moment, she remained exactly where she was. Finally, with a sigh, Amanda stepped back, reluctance evident in the very set of her shoulders. Something was urging her to let him in. Maybe it was just idle curiosity. Or maybe it was that reckless element that exists in people, the one that makes them want to leap in front of oncoming subway trains and jump from roofs.

  Amanda closed the door behind her. “You know, for an investigative reporter, you don’t have your facts very straight. I’m originally from California. That doesn’t exactly make me a Yankee.”

  He stuck his hands in his pockets as he walked in and looked around. Nice. Simple, but elegant. Her house made him think of her.

  His eyes flickered over her as he followed her to the kitchen. “I’m from Georgia.” Pierce’s drawl intensified. “To me, everyone’s a Yankee.”

  Amanda took a glass from the cupboard and turned on the faucet. She wasn’t going to let him engage her in conversation. Just drink and go. “Yes, well, if I get you that water, will you leave?”

  “Drink and run?” he asked, amused. “Southern boys are never rude, Mandy.”

  Yeah, right. “Obviously a lesson they left out of your education.”

  The water spilled over her fingers as she filled the glass. Amanda thrust the glass into his hand. “Here.”

  As he accepted it, his fingers brushed against hers.

  Her hand was trapped in his. “This isn’t a joint venture, Alexander.” She glared at him, attempting to shut out a fresh wave of warmth. “I’d like my hand back.”

  “Sorry,” he murmured, entertained.

  Distance. She both needed and wanted distance from him. Amanda turned away and began unpacking the groceries as slowly as she could, willing him to leave.

  As she shoved boxes into the pantry and packages into the freezer, she tried to ignore the fact that he was just standing there, mutely watching her. It was like trying to ignore a fire beneath her feet.

  Pierce leaned a hip casually against the counter. “You know,” he said, contemplating the inside of the glass, “champagne might taste a whole lot better.”

  She was certain that Alexander would just love that, getting her too intoxicated to realize that he was taking advantage of her. She closed the refrigerator door with a loud slam.

  “It might, but it’s too early in the day to drink, at least for me.” She folded the grocery sacks, punching them into submission. “Way too early.” Shoving the bags into a drawer next to the sink, she then slammed that. “Don’t you have anything to do?”

  He noticed that the little line was forming between her brows again. “Can’t think of a thing. I’m not due at the studio until ten-thirty tonight.” He went through the motions of looking at his watch to appease her. “And there’s nothing breaking for me to investigate.”

  "Have you called in?"

  "No. I was in such a hurry to find you, I forgot my phone."

  She sighed, sorry she had ever opened the front door.

  “Then how would you know?” She gestured toward the front of the house, urging him out. “You’re here, your phone’s home.”

  “Ever hear of a beeper?” Removing it from his belt, he held it up for her to see.

  She looked at the small black object, surprised. “I can’t picture you wearing one of those.”

  Owning a beeper made him seem far too responsible, almost tame. But there was something in his eyes that told her Pierce wasn’t the type who could be tamed. He was the type to establish his own rules and play the game on his own terms. Men like Alexander didn’t wear beepers.

  His fingers curved around the beeper as he hooked it onto his belt.

  “Seems like you can’t picture me in a whole lot of ways.” He took a step toward her. She felt exceedingly uncomfortable. The closer he was, the more she realized how tall he was. It was disarming.

  He slid his finger along a lock of her hair and watched, fascinated, as the pulse in her throat jumped. “I’m a multisided person, Mandy.”

  She hated herself for her weak reaction. It was probably just what he was expecting. Yet instead of standing her ground, Amanda took a step away from him. “Multi-sided or multi-faced?”

  Something flashed in her eyes, and her sudden wariness surprised him. “Who set you on edge this way, Mandy?”

  “You.”

  But he knew better.

  “Uh-uh, the job was done way before I came onto the scene.” And she wasn’t about to tell him who. Not now. He could see that. But she would.

  She frowned. “You’re not on the scene except in a very cursory way.”

  His smile unnerved her
. “That can change.”

  “Not anytime soon.” She was about to add, “Not in this lifetime,” but somehow the words never formed.

  “I’ve got time.”

  She whirled on her heel, turning her back on him. “Well, I don’t.”

  He didn’t take her answer the way she had intended. “In a hurry? Fine with me.” He took her arm, causing her to face him. “I’ve got to admit I’ve been curious about this for a long time now.”

  What was he talking about? And why did she suddenly feel so threatened? But she didn’t voice her question, or demand that he release her. It was hard to think, let alone speak, with Pierce standing so close to her.

  The hell with waiting, he decided. The opportunity might not present itself to him again anytime soon. His eyes holding hers, he drew Amanda into his arms.

  As their bodies touched at all the volatile points, the air seemed to just whoosh away from her lungs. She thought about kicking him, about bringing her knee up and landing a blow to his vanity and his crotch.

  But Amanda couldn’t have moved if her life depended on it.

  And maybe, in a way, it did.

  He brought his mouth down on hers. She could have sworn that she felt it a second before it made contact, hot and hungry as it pressed against hers.

  It was a spontaneous combustion. Hungers and needs exploded within her. She had hoped, in vain, that she was submitting herself to the acid test and that he would come up lacking. She had fervently hoped that when he kissed her, she would discover, once and for all, that he was all flash, all smoke and no substance, just as she had believed. More than anything in the world, she wanted the feel of his mouth to leave her cold.

  Not hot.

  Not hot like an untended forest that had been set on fire.

  But as his lips moved methodically, gently, softly over hers, she found herself responding. She was losing her train of thought, her sense of balance, her very hold on reality. She could taste flavors, dark, dangerous, on his lips. Dangerous and so tempting. And in tasting them, she could sense doom. Her own. But she couldn’t pull away.

  Not when something was rising up within her to meet this swirling feeling.