Flash and Fire

by Marie Ferrarella

  She was going to let his comment pass. She was a private person, and saw no sense in rehashing the past or justifying herself.

  Amanda took another long sip of coffee. Despite her resolution, words just seemed to materialize of their own accord.

  “I antagonized Grimsley long before this afternoon.” She shivered involuntarily as she thought of the incidents. She always shivered when she thought of them. They repulsed her. “John Grimsley wanted me to go to bed with him.”

  Pierce knew all about it. But then, he knew most of the so-called secrets that made the rounds at the studio. He studied her face with genuine interest. “Why didn’t you?”

  Amanda’s eyes narrowed into slits and she rose abruptly. She didn’t have to sit here in this trashy place and be insulted. Pierce grabbed her wrist before she could walk away.

  “It was just a question,” he said mildly. “Ambitious women do things like that. On occasion.” He added the qualifying coda because he knew it would placate her, not because he believed it.

  Exhaling an annoyed sigh, Amanda sank down in the booth again.

  “Not this ambitious woman.” Incensed, her eyes took on a fire he found compelling. She’d been through this before. The resentment never lessened. “I don’t like quotas, or shortcuts, or reverse prejudice. I do it by merit, or I don’t do it at all.”

  Pierce’s amusement was evident in his eyes. “They burned Saint Joan at the stake, you know.”

  He might be amused, but she wasn’t. “Sorry if that sounded a little holier-than-thou, but I’m not feeling very entertaining at the moment.”

  Placing his hand on top of hers, Pierce gently stroked his thumb over her skin. He saw the muscle in her jaw twitch just a little. “You feel just fine.”

  The jukebox had ceased playing for a second before the same song began again, louder this time. She wondered if it was stuck and if someone would pull the plug on it. Her eardrums began to throb.

  “I must need to have my head examined, coming here with you.” Pierce cocked his head as if he couldn’t hear her, and she raised her voice. “You’re the last person in the world I would have picked to unwind with.”

  Her comment brought a glint to his eyes. She supposed that some women would call it sexy. She called it too damn cocky.

  “There’s unwinding.” He slid closer until he was on her side of the booth. “And then there’s unwinding.”

  She didn’t need a road map drawn for her. Alexander had made things perfectly clear. “We’re not going to bed together.”

  He surprised her by nodding in agreement and then spoiled it by saying, “Not now.”

  Suddenly, she wasn’t tired anymore. Just very wary. “Not ever. I’m not in the market for a one-night stand or even a relationship with you.” Though, from what she had heard around the studio, a relationship as far as Pierce was concerned extended to two or three nights strung together. “It wouldn’t work and it would lead to nothing but trouble.”

  She had no idea how Pierce had managed to maneuver over until he was sitting closer to her than her own shadow.

  His breath teased her cheek. Her stomach quivered as he outlined the rim of her ear with his fingertip. “Trouble can be very entertaining.”

  Amanda felt muscles contracting in anticipation. Site had to concentrate in order not to squirm.

  “Not for me.” Purposely pretending that she could ignore him, she drained the last of her cup and wished her nerves would settle down to a gentle roar. “Peace and quiet is more my speed.”

  He knew better even if she didn’t. “Not after what I saw today.” He moved back a little, deciding to give them both a break. His body felt as taut as a violin bowstring that was about to snap. “You knew that story was going to make Grimsley come after you. He doesn’t like people sticking independent oars into his ocean.”

  She raised her chin stubbornly. She didn’t expect Alexander to understand. “I had no choice. I promised Whitney.”

  He shook his head and his patronizing attitude annoyed her, just as he knew it would. But she had to be made to face the truth.

  “Amanda, we always have a choice. Sometimes we just don’t choose to make it. And even that’s a choice.”

  He didn’t care about the broadcast, or about having a sense of honor; all he cared about, she thought, was getting her into his bed. She could see it in his eyes. Amid all the smoke and the noise, the signs were very clear to her.

  What was worse was that despite all she knew about him, despite the hard-won lesson from her past, Amanda knew that if she were to be honest with herself, she wanted to be there with him.

  The kiss in her kitchen had told her that.

  But she was nothing if not a fighter, and she resisted what she knew wasn’t any good for her, no matter how beguiling.

  “Philosophy 101?” She eyed the door from where she sat, contemplating her escape.

  He didn’t mind her mocking him. It only added to her appeal. “Life 101.”

  Her eyes daring him to stop her, Amanda rose to her feet. “This has all been very interesting, but I’ve got things to do.” A self-deprecating smile curved her mouth. “Maybe even a resume to update.”

  Pierce laughed softly as he handed her her purse. She’d forgotten it on the seat between them. “I didn’t know Grimsley could turn that shade of red.”

  It had been a bright, beetlike color. “The man’s bucking for a heart attack.”

  Pierce rose, throwing down a ten on the table. He knew Sally could use the change. When he took Amanda’s arm, it felt stiff to his touch.

  “Maybe you should go to bed with him,” he said philosophically, though he knew that if the event had occurred, something within him would have hated it. “Do us all a favor.”

  She pulled away, and wondered why she didn’t hurry off. “Not even if I knew for certain it would kill him.”

  “A pity.” His eyes held hers. Pierce didn’t want to talk about Grimsley anymore. He was thinking of her. Of her soft mouth pressed against his, of her sleek, long limbs tangled about him. “Want me to take you home, Mandy?”

  Did he think she couldn’t hold a drop of whiskey? “I can drive.”

  He shook his head as they walked outside. “I was thinking of my home.”

  She sighed. “Don’t you ever give up?”

  “I haven’t even begun. But I meant it in friendship this time. Give you a shoulder to cry on if you want.” He raised his hands, fingers spread toward the sky. “No hands, Mandy, I promise.”

  She wondered if he really meant it. But if she took him up on his offer, she knew, promises would be broken, his and hers. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

  Pierce dropped his hands. “As you wish.”

  He watched her unlock her door and slide in behind the steering wheel. He remained where he was. “Take care of yourself, Mandy. And don’t drive too fast. The Dallas police like nothing better than pulling women like you over.” He grinned. “Helps break up the monotony.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Putting the car into reverse, Amanda pulled out of the parking lot and away from Pierce as fast as she was able. It wasn’t fast enough.

  Chapter Sixteen

  It had been one hell of a day.

  Amanda sighed as she mentally reviewed it. She had reacted to a man in a way she would have never believed possible. Maybe her reaction to Pierce was tied to what Whitney had told her. The revelation had shattered her world and rocked her foundation. She hadn’t been in her right mind. Yet she had reacted to him, reacted to a gentleness. It had surprised her. Pierce had demonstrated a gentle sensuality that seemed totally unlike him. Like Whitney, he had behaved in a way that was out of character. She felt as if her entire world had been upended.

  As if dealing with her reaction to Pierce hadn’t been difficult enough, today she had had to announce to the world that Whitney Granger was basically a felon. Yes, that was the word. Felon. Chances were that unless her father outdid himself, Whitney would end
up in prison for what he had done.

  And to top all that off, Grimsley was undoubtedly hiring a hit man to take her out even as she sat at her desk thinking about it. Knowing him, he would probably relish doing the job himself.

  Amanda smiled wearily. Though perhaps overly dramatic, her scenario wasn’t that far from the truth. At the very least, she knew the station manager was combing through her contract, trying to find a way to break it because she had disregarded Grimsley’s Golden Rule: She hadn’t paid homage to him before breaking her story. But because she had scooped the rival stations, Amanda was confident that the station owners would be on her side. Grimsley couldn’t just fire her outright. But he’d search for a way. She was certain that Grimsley was going to make life miserable for her now, hoping she’d quit.

  Amanda leaned back in her chair, lacing her fingers together and bracing them against her head. She rocked as she thought.

  “Fat chance, Grimsley. I’ve absolutely no intentions of leaving.”

  She heard the door open behind her and turned in her chair. Carla peered into the den. Amanda had passed her in the hall when she’d arrived home, saying that she needed a few minutes alone. Obviously their clocks kept different time.

  Carla looked at her sympathetically. “I put Christopher in bed for you. I think he’s exhausted. His eyes started closing even before I began reading to him.”

  Thank you, God.

  Amanda’s gratitude melted in the face of reality. It wasn’t often that Christopher was peaceful. “He’s not coming down with a cold, is he?”

  Carla shook her head adamantly, her short dark hair whipping around her face.

  “No, he just ran himself into the ground instead of me for a change.” A wide, satisfied smile creased her face. “I’m feeling a lot better. Can I use your Blue Ray player tonight? I’ve got this movie I’ve been meaning to watch.”

  “Sure.” Amanda nodded absently, turning back to her desk. “Help yourself.”

  She heard Carla close the door again as she left the room. Though she felt guilty about it, Amanda was relieved that all that was required of her right now was here within the four walls of her den. She dearly loved Christopher, but there were times, like now, when she needed her space, at least for a little while.

  And she had to call Whitney.

  Amanda called one of the lines that went to Granger’s estate. The busy signal throbbed rhythmically in her ear.

  It’s begun.

  A shaft of guilt went through her. Whitney had asked her to do this, but she hated the thought that she’d been the one who had exposed him on the air.

  Amanda tried the number to his private line. She counted ten rings before the phone was finally picked up.

  “Whitney, it’s Amanda.” She thought she detected a faint din of noise in the background. “How are you?”

  Whitney had picked up in the library. Despite security measures, there were reporters on the grounds. He drew the drapes, blocking out their view, but not their sound. “Under siege, it seems.”

  Amanda could easily picture the scene. Protective instincts rose. “I can—“

  “—remain where you are,” Whitney instructed, giving her sentence a new ending. “I’d feel a great deal better if you weren’t involved in this any further. I’m sorry now that I dragged you into this. The situation might get ugly.”

  If he meant to shield her, there was no need. She would have laughed at the sweetness of the gesture if she wasn’t so concerned about him.

  “Whitney, I know what it can be like. I’m a reporter, remember?”

  “No.” His voice was firm. “You’re the girl I took to her first cotillion. And my friend.”

  Amanda sighed, relenting. She knew she had no choice but to let Whitney do it his way. He deserved that much.

  “All right. But I really do hate thinking of you there alone.”

  Alone was the last thing he was, Whitney thought. It would have been better if he were.

  “Twenty-some-odd reporters camped out on my front lawn is far from alone.” He could hear her intake of breath and knew she was about to tell him she was coming over. “Don’t worry. I’ve hired several bodyguards and my brother Neil flew in this morning to be with me. I’ll be all right, Amanda.”

  In her heart, she apologized to him on behalf of all reporters. She knew how persistent they could be. “Have you given out any interviews yet?”

  That he had steadfastly refused to do, even though he knew it was just a matter of time. “Not until I speak to your father again. The only one I’ve spoken to so far besides you is the man you sent out.”

  Amanda straightened like an arrow in her chair.

  “What man? I didn’t send anyone.”

  She had initially debated sending out Paul Rodriguez, the cameraman she occasionally used when she went out in the field. She knew that Paul could be trusted and it would have given her some footage to use in the broadcast. But she had vetoed her own idea because it would have been an invasion of Whitney’s privacy.

  Then he had been right in his initial suspicion, Whitney thought. Amanda hadn’t told anyone.

  “That investigative reporter, Pierce Alexander. He seemed to know everything about the matter.” He laughed self-deprecatingly. “At the time I thought it was a little odd that you didn’t come yourself, but I assumed you had your reasons.”

  Being drawn and quartered, that’s what Alexander deserved. Slowly. Damn it, she should have realized that he was suddenly hanging around her for a reason. Somehow, she had no idea how, he must have found out about her connection with Whitney and had known something was brewing before she did.

  “I didn’t send him. I have no idea how he found out about this, but I’m going to.” Her hand tightened on the telephone as anger curled within her like a snake preparing to strike. “Do you need anything?”

  “Prayers come to mind.”

  Her voice softened. “You know you’ve already got those. I’ll talk to you soon. Call me if there’s anything I can do.”

  She rang off and had to restrain herself from hurling her phone against the wall.

  “That goddamn son of a bitch!”

  All the while he was trying to talk her out of her clothes, he’d been trying to rape her mind instead. Her thoughts ended in abrupt fragments as she created different ways for him to die.

  How did he find out about Whitney, even before she did?

  But if he did, why hadn’t he gone to the station manager with it? Grimsley had been completely surprised by her news announcement. That meant he hadn’t been forewarned by Alexander.

  What was going on?

  It didn’t make sense, but there seemed to be no other reason for Alexander’s sudden interest in her. It wasn’t as if he lacked for willing companions.

  Amanda’s head began to throb.

  She dropped it between her hands and closed her eyes. What she wanted was to crawl into bed and pull the covers over her head. She was in no mood to work on the five-part series that was going to air beginning next week.

  But the work wasn’t going to go away just because her head felt like there was a war party going on in it, complete with a frenzy of pounding drums.

  With a sigh, she switched on her computer.

  Over four hours later, she was still at it. Sometime during that period, Carla had slipped in and brought her a tray with a pot of coffee and two roast beef sandwiches. Amanda loved roast beef sandwiches. But tonight, her appetite had been decimated. The sandwiches were still there, almost untouched. The pot of coffee, though, was just about empty.

  Amanda felt exhausted and wired at the same time.

  She had been tempted to turn on the TV set earlier to catch Pierce on the news. She assumed he’d be covering Whitney’s story. But she knew that if she heard him following up her story, she wouldn’t have been able to handle it.

  As it was, the very thought of the man and his deceit made her furious.

  Besides, she didn’t feel up to hearing
what the news media had done to the story and, consequently, to Whitney. She might be part of the news process, but she didn’t condone the relentless way members of the fourth estate attacked a story at times, like great white sharks in a feeding frenzy.

  Glancing at her wristwatch, she sighed. How had it gotten to be so late? It was ten minutes past midnight. Amanda stretched.

  Ten minutes past midnight and her coach had long since turned into a pumpkin.

  She heard the door open behind her, but was too tired to gather the energy to even turn around. The muscles in her neck and shoulders felt as if they were permanently and uncomfortably fused together.

  “Carla, why aren’t you in bed?” Amanda said without turning around as she lifted her hair from her neck. “Never mind. Since you’re up, would you mind very much massaging my shoulders for a second? I’d really appreciate it. I think I’ve got knots there the size of boulders. I guess the tension’s just about wiped me out.”

  Carla made no reply. Instead, Amanda felt the hands on her shoulders as they began to gently knead the muscles. Amanda sighed as she felt them skillfully work at alleviating the hard bands of tension throbbing there. Slow, sure, strong movements worked their way up to the sides of her neck.

  Amanda’s head dropped forward.

  “Oh yes, yes,” she breathed in relief that bordered on elation. She felt all her limbs going limp. “Yes, right there. You’ve got it. Don’t stop,” she murmured. “I’ll give you anything you want, just don’t stop.”

  The deep male laugh made her stiffen instantly.

  “If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear that you had an erogenous zone right there.” Pierce stroked the sides of her neck, bringing his hands to rest at the base of her throat.

  Amanda swung around to look up at Pierce. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Working out the kinks in your neck.” He glided a fingertip along her throat. “Are they mine?”

  Her eyes narrowed as anger warred with desire. “Partially. How did you get in here?”

  “Carla let me. I was passing by and saw the lights on. I figured you were up and maybe needed someone to talk to.”