Flash and Fire

by Marie Ferrarella

  “What’s changed?”

  Carla looked at Pierce. Her shy smile spread.

  Amanda turned toward Pierce, attempting to understand what was going on.

  Oh God, had he—?

  Amanda’s accusation sprang into her eyes. Of course he had. He would do it with anyone without a male organ, she thought angrily. He made a religion out of making love to women. Still, she wanted him to deny it. Not that she would believe him, but she wanted him to go through the motions. “You didn’t...”

  How had she guessed so easily? Then he remembered that he had pointed it out to her. What he had done was only natural, as far as he was concerned. He didn’t normally interfere, but this was for Amanda, and somehow, that made it right.

  “Sure, why not?”

  “How could you?” Amanda cried, incensed.

  It was one thing to talk his way into her bed; it was another thing entirely to do the same thing with Carla. Carla was incredibly naive, innocent, and was under her wing. It was up to her to protect the young woman from men like Pierce. When had he found the opportunity? It made no difference. He had.

  Amanda wanted to scratch his eyes out.

  He had no idea why she was getting so worked up. “It was easy.”

  “Easy?” she echoed incredulously. Then her expression darkened. “I’ll just bet it was.”

  Amanda drew herself up to her full height. She was almost a head shorter than he was, but right at this moment, she appeared taller. Carla was watching her with huge, confused eyes. Amanda felt a pang of guilt. She had no idea how he had managed to get Carla alone for more than a few minutes, but somehow he had.

  “I want you to get out of here, Alexander.”

  One minute she blew hot, the next cold. What was going on? “What’s gotten into you?”

  “Now!” she ordered. “I want you out of here now. Before I call the police.”

  The woman was crazy. “Amanda, you were out in that sun much too long.” He spoke to her as if he were talking to someone verging on senility. “This is no big deal.”

  She thought of Pierce and Carla together and shuddered, then looked at the younger woman with pity. For her part, Carla looked completely bewildered.

  “No big deal?” Amanda repeated. “What kind of a bastard are you?”

  He struggled not to shout. “A hell of a confused one. What the hell are you carrying on about?”

  Was he so amoral that he didn’t understand? No, amoral people were naive, and Pierce had been born street-smart and world-weary. And jaded. “You and Carla.”

  She had been out in the sun too long. He stared at Amanda as if she had sprouted another head. “Carla? And me?”

  Carla’s eyes looked as if they were about to pop out of her head. “Him and me?” Carla choked the words out.

  The surprise, coming from both of them, was much too great and much too spontaneous. Now it was her turn to be confused.

  “Weren’t you just talking about taking Carla to—“

  The wide, lazy grin that spread over Pierce’s face as he began to comprehend the reason for her sudden agitation stopped Amanda abruptly.

  “All right, all right.” Amanda surrendered. “What are you talking about?”

  Carla answered in a euphoric rush. “Mr. Alexander gave Paul my telephone number. He just called a few minutes before you came home.” She beamed. “We’re going out to see that new movie I have been wanting to see.” Carla’s wide smile softened as she looked at Amanda, completely mystified. “Mr. Alexander is your man. I wouldn’t go out with him.”

  It wasn’t their “going out” that had had her so concerned, but Amanda decided it would be better if she didn’t elaborate. She’d already made a complete fool of herself.

  “Mr. Alexander is not ‘my man,’ Carla.” The protest was notably feeble, and Amanda felt like an idiot for leaping to that conclusion.

  Pierce placed his hands on Amanda’s shoulders as he looked conspiratorially at Carla.

  “Amanda’s still into denial, Carla. I’d just humor her for a while if I were you.” He smiled down into Amanda’s face. “That’s what I’m doing.”

  Amanda looked up at him. “What you’re doing is driving me crazy.”

  For a moment, Pierce forgot that Carla was standing there. “I was hoping for that, because it’s mutual.”

  Humming, Carla withdrew. If nothing else, after watching so many soap operas, Carla knew when an exit was necessary.

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Amanda had known, of course. Known as soon as she had seen Pierce walking toward her with Paul at the hostage site that it was just a matter of time before she would wind up here, in her bed with him.

  Known it because there wasn’t anything else she wanted as much, emotionally, as to be here with him like this again. It wasn’t logical. If anything, it was probably self-destructive to want it.

  Pierce lay next to her, sleeping. And her heart was filled with so many emotions just watching him.

  What she was, she thought with just a touch of misery, was in love.

  She’d come to realize somewhere during their passionate lovemaking last night that this was what she had been trying to rationalize away so frantically. She was in love with Pierce.

  Love, in glowing capital letters.

  It didn’t change anything—not for him, not for her. She wouldn’t tell him, so he wouldn’t know. And when he left, as his track record indicated he would, she’d do nothing to stop him. They would continue on separately, just as they had before.

  She was a big girl, she thought, and could readily accept all the consequences of her actions. That was what being an adult meant. If being here with him like this would lead her to an unhappy ending, so be it. Better a corner of happiness with no strings than no happiness at all.

  Instinctively, Amanda knew that the biggest mistake she could make would be to tell Pierce how she felt. Because he’d be gone so fast once he knew, her head would be rotating for days. He might be Superman when it came to hostage situations, but Superman was afraid of commitment. It was his personal form of Kryptonite.

  Pierce stirred next to her, then slowly opened his eyes and looked at Amanda. The smile came without conscious thought. He could get used to this, he realized. Easily get used to waking up to find her next to him.

  He knew it was a mistake to feel that way. Nothing was forever except death.

  But still, in the early morning haze, when all of his barriers were not firmly sunk into place yet, he allowed himself to dream a little and pretend that what couldn’t be, could.

  When he was fully awake, he knew the regrets would come. Being here with her was a little like trying to give up smoking and failing. He’d enjoy the cigarette, though the guilt would be there, haunting him, and he’d already be planning how he would quit successfully—the next time. It was the same with wanting her. He knew he’d have to walk away eventually, but for now all he wanted to do was enjoy his weakness.

  Pierce tugged at the sheet covering her breasts. He wanted to see her. All of her. Last night had been even more incredible than the first time. He’d never known a woman could be so agile, so athletic. She had literally taken his breath away.

  When she tried to pull the sheet back into place, he covered her hand, stopping her. “Ready for another helping?”

  She’d heard of stamina, but this was bordering on superhuman. Maybe he was Superman. The thought almost made her giggle. That in itself was out of character for her; Amanda had never giggled in her life.

  Amanda glanced toward the window. Pinks and light shades of violet were fading in the sky. “It’s morning,” she protested.

  “So?” He grinned. “You have your anatomy lessons mixed up.” Pierce moved the sheet slightly as he pretended to glance down at himself. “It only shrivels when water’s thrown on it, not when it sees light.” He pulled the sheet completely aside. “And certainly not when it sees you.”

  Shifting, he pulled her against him, his arms bra
cketing her in place. Amanda stayed willingly. She feathered a finger along his hair.

  “You’re incredible,” she told him.

  “I know.” He appeased himself, for now, by kissing the hollow of her throat. “Abstinence does it.”

  Even with all her senses beginning to melt, she could laugh at Pierce’s remark. He certainly wasn’t a candidate for Monk of the Month. “Yeah, I’ll just bet.”

  Pierce continued to kiss her. “Maybe I shouldn’t admit it.” Telling her was even more intimate than making love with her was. The realization struck him as odd; he’d always assumed that lovemaking was the ultimate intimate act. But he had already gone too far to backtrack. “But I haven’t touched another woman since the last time we made love.”

  God knows he had tried to. He’d even gone as far as to bring a woman he’d picked up in a bar back to his room. But all he could think of was Amanda. He had wound up giving the woman cab fare and sending her home without so much as kissing her. He’d spent the night lying in his bed, cursing Amanda.

  And wanting her.

  Amanda braced her hands on his shoulders as she felt a climax shimmering just out of reach. God, how could he do this so quickly to her?

  “By my recollection, that was three hours ago.”

  He laughed as he stopped for a moment and looked into her eyes. They were just eyes, he thought. He really didn’t see his soul captured there. It was only an illusion.

  “I meant the first time.”

  Amanda shook her head as if trying to get her bearings. Maybe she’d misheard him. “In that case, you’re not who you say you are. I’d like to see some ID, please.”

  “ID coming up.” He grinned, positioning himself over Amanda as he nudged her thighs apart with his knee. “Ah, here it is now. Why don’t you try this on for size?”

  Very slowly, his eyes fixed on hers, Pierce entered her.

  Amanda wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing his mouth inches away from hers. Ecstasy began to curl through her like velvet smoke.

  “Whatever you say.”

  He smiled warmly as he began to move his hips. He saw the spark of desire flash in her eyes and spread. It seized him as well.

  “That’s what I like, an even-tempered woman.”

  Her breath was growing short as she arched against him, her hips matching his thrust for thrust. “The hell you do. You want a hellcat in your bed and a blue-blooded lady out of it.”

  “You’ve got my number, Mandy.”

  What scared the hell out of him, as he uttered the line jokingly, was that he was afraid he was right.

  Amanda walked into her office the following Monday afternoon, humming as she started up her computer. Pierce had stayed the entire weekend. During the day he had offered constructive suggestions about raising Christopher and played with the boy when he assumed she was busy elsewhere. Silly children’s games that delighted Christopher. It was easy to see that her son had taken to him.

  And so had she.

  Pierce had left early this morning for his own apartment, driven there by his need for new underwear. As he left, he’d offered to bring her back a pair if she felt like “getting kinky again” and wearing his. His parting shot was to tell her that he’d kept the torn scrap that had been hers as a souvenir, pinned to his headboard. If she wanted them back, she’d have to get them herself.

  She’d thrown a pillow at him; he’d turned around in a flash, ready to avenge his “battered” honor. Leaving had been temporarily postponed for another half hour.

  Amanda sighed, reliving the scene. More than ever, she knew it couldn’t last. But until the bubble burst, she had already made up her mind to drift with it. Drifting aimlessly in a relationship wasn’t her style. But then, neither was falling for someone like Pierce.

  He represented everything she didn’t want in a relationship. Recklessness. A firm commitment to no commitment. And yet, she couldn’t make herself walk away from him, not when everything inside of her begged her to stay.

  Get your mind back in gear and out of the bedroom. Amanda. You’ve got work to do. They don’t pay you good money to moon over Pierce Alexander.

  Moon. Like a silly adolescent girl, she thought. Well, maybe that was it. Maybe Pierce represented her one wild, mad crush. The one she hadn’t had while growing up because she’d been so sensible, so dedicated to attaining her goals and showing her father that she could. Maybe Pierce represented the bad boy that supposedly every young girl fantasized about riding off with into the sunset on the back of his Harley-Davidson.

  Except she wasn’t a young girl, she was a grown woman who was supposed to have come to terms with fantasies and rampant hormones years ago.

  Amanda sighed again. There was no known cure for Pierce Alexander. No antidote, except time, she supposed.

  She hoped time didn’t work soon.

  Dropping her purse in the corner beside her desk, Amanda picked up a pad. If she wanted to continue working, she’d better see about looking over the copy for this afternoon’s broadcast.

  She was just reaching for the doorknob when there was a knock. Before she could say, “Come in,” the door was pushed open. Amanda stumbled backward a few steps before she managed to regain her balance.

  Grimsley’s bulk filled the doorway.

  “Looking for me, Mr. Grimsley?” It was a sarcastic question. But she felt so good today, even seeing Grimsley wasn’t going to spoil her mood, she told herself.

  He’d waited a long time to say this. Eight long months to get even with the bitch. He supposed it made the revenge taste sweeter. “Just thought you might want to know, we’re releasing you from your contract.”

  Amanda stiffened. The smile on his lips should have warned her something was wrong. “I’ve got another three months on that contract. You can’t ‘release’ me until then, John.”

  He took a step forward, trying to make her cower with his very bulk. He saw the loathing in her eyes. That wasn’t what he was after.

  “Correction—I can release you as of right now. It’s my prerogative as station manager to make cuts if I judge them necessary for the good of the ratings.”

  The sanctimonious son of a bitch. She knew why he was doing this. What she needed to know was what excuse he was using. “On what grounds?”

  The stupid bitch didn’t know enough to realize the game was over. “Your Q status tested low.”

  She stared at him in disbelief. Her weekly e-mail was as healthy as anyone else’s at the station, with the exception of Pierce. The twwBut then, she wasn’t getting letters asking her for an 8-by-10 glossy of herself in a swimsuit, either. Fan letters like that she didn’t need. What she looked like in a bathing suit had nothing to do with her credibility in delivering the news.

  “What?”

  “I decided to have an impromptu poll made up rather than wait for the regular one to be given,” he informed her mildly. “Just to see how things were faring, you understand.” He didn’t bother to hide his malicious pleasure. “It seems that the public doesn’t like you any more than I do. I think some of the terms they used to describe you were ‘abrasive’ and ‘condescending.’”

  His jowls lifted into the smile. “You’re tight-assed, and they’re discerning enough to pick up on it.”

  She didn’t believe him for a minute. He was making the whole thing up. “You can’t do this.”

  “We just did.” His piglike eyes narrowed, “Just did. And I’ve got the perfect replacement for you waiting in the wings.”

  She visualized a brainless centerfold type who was willing to put out for the chance at prime exposure. “Who?”

  This was the part Grimsley knew he was going to enjoy most of all. The bombshell he figured would send her reeling.

  “Someone who tested really high with the viewers. Surprisingly enough, with men as well as with women.” Personally, he didn’t care for the bastard, but Alexander got the news across and the man wasn’t afraid to go wherever they sent him. It made things run smo
othly.

  “Who?” she shouted again.

  “Your pal. Pierce Alexander.”

  Amanda felt herself growing pale, though she struggled against it. Shafts of betrayal pierced her heart.

  Had Pierce known about this ahead of time? Had Grimsley promised him her spot if “things” didn’t work out well? Was Pierce trying to insure a smooth transition and her compliance by seducing her?

  She didn’t want to believe any of it, but everything pointed in that direction. She found herself returning to the old question she had thought was buried: Why else had he suddenly started paying so much attention to her?

  Still, something within her refused to accept this, perhaps because Grimsley took such complete delight in the scenario.

  “Pierce wouldn’t accept the job.”

  “Oh, but he already has.”

  Amanda felt something die within her. “I want to see a copy of the questions used in the poll.”

  There was no way he was going to let her get her hands on that. “Sorry, but that information is private. I don’t have to show you.” He was enjoying himself to the hilt. Vengeance was almost as good as a sweet piece of tail. And it lasted a hell of a lot longer. “And I won’t.”

  He was bluffing. He had to be. There was no Q status report. Or if there was, he had doctored it. She would bet her soul on it. “You’re just doing this because I won’t go to bed with you.”

  He raised his eyebrows, the soul of offended innocence. “I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re babbling about, Ms. Foster. The viewers rule and they indicated their displeasure.”

  He bent over her, his face looming close, reminding Amanda of the alien leaning over Sigourney Weaver and slobbering. “In plain English, they know what they don’t like to see, and they don’t like you. Now if you want my advice—“

  “I don’t.” She spat the words out.

  He continued as if he hadn’t heard her. “I’d clear out and leave quietly before I got myself blacklisted.” His tongue curled around the last word. “Do I make myself clear?”

  “You want quiet? Go buy yourself a tape of elevator music. You want noise, stand back and just listen, because I’ve no intentions of disappearing meekly without a trace like that pathetic appendage of yours that you keep trying to poke at unsuspecting women.” Her face flushed with anger as she remembered the way he was always “accidentally” backing her into the walls, talking about the possibilities of her rapid advancement at K-DAL, until she had threatened him with court action on sexual harassment charges.