by Rachel Lee
“I’m not saying we’re excitement central. But the fact is, people here are mostly nice, mostly friendly and mostly go about their business without causing unnecessary grief. So yeah, it’s a nice place, a great place to live. But like any other place, trouble finds us, or some of us make it. Like folks everywhere, we want our lives peaceful and trouble-free. But wishing and reality are two different things. Life doesn’t leave anyone alone forever.”
She turned that around in her mind, trying to get what he was driving at. Was he asking her if she was a gypsy because she wanted constant change? She didn’t think she did, but she kept moving around anyway. Was she afraid of stasis? If so, he had it right when he said life didn’t leave anyone alone for long. Troubles came in all kinds.
Or was she just afraid that if she stayed too long she might discover all over again that she didn’t fit?
She shook her head a little. “This is a bit self-indulgent of me. We’ve got a dangerous creep out there. My problems can wait.”
“Well, I disagree,” he said gently. “You’ve had a big shakeup tonight. You’re dealing with it in the ways you need to. Let ’er rip.”
He leaned back, putting his feet on the coffee table. “There’s my little rebellion.”
“What?”
“My ex would have killed me for putting my feet on that table. I do it all the time now. And you probably noticed all the rings on the table.”
She smiled wanly. “Sort of.”
“They’re there because I refused to yell at Linda for not using a coaster. Heard enough of that. It’s just a piece of furniture, not an heirloom, and certainly not some ridiculously expensive piece. I don’t care how battered it looks. It’s there to be used.”
“I can agree with that.”
He glanced her way. “It’s like life. You get dinged. Unavoidable. But dinged or not, that coffee table is still useful. Linda and I joke that we’re turning it into a unique piece of art. Maybe it is. I bet nobody else has a coffee table that looks quite like this.”
She laughed. “I’m sure you’re right.” But her laughter faded as his message reached home. “I’m like a piece of furniture in a showroom.”
“No, you’re not. You’ve been dinged, too, and as much as you might try to avoid getting dinged some more, you’re still accumulating new dents and scratches and watermarks. I saw the way you looked when you mentioned being dumped by Ted, or whatever his name was. You might be trying to avoid it, but it’s happening anyway. So you need to figure out what you really want and go for it. If it’s joining the circus, I’ll come to the show when it’s in town.”
She’d liked him from the outset, had felt attracted to him enough to flirt, something she rarely did, but now she felt an overwhelming wave of warmth. Knowing all her warts, or the worst ones at least, he was telling her she was okay. Likening her to a unique work of art.
“Damn it, Wayne, you’re going to make me cry again.”
He gave her a crooked smile. “If you need to, be my guest. I didn’t mind the first round.”
But instead of crying, she put her mug down again, not on a coaster this time, and slid over toward him. He twisted immediately, welcoming her with an open arm. She curled into his embrace, loving the sound of his heartbeat in her ear, loving his particular masculine scents. “You’re a remarkable guy,” she said.
“Not really. I managed to utterly blow my marriage. And don’t tell me it wasn’t my fault. Best case is that we were both at fault. Nobody’s perfect.”
“But she left you because she hated this town?”
“She said it was driving her crazy. I never quite got clear on that, but she didn’t offer anything else, so I guess I must have been boring her to death. It wouldn’t surprise me. I work a lot, and more so after I became chief.”
“That’s part of the territory. I know.”
“I know you do. But Lisa was sitting home all day with a child. Most of her friends were busy with their families. I’m not sure what she needed, but she seems to have found it now. And I’ve made a good life here with Linda. I wish I knew more.”
“Maybe not,” she said, absently running her fingertips over his hard chest. “Those scenes can be devastating. I speak from experience. Someone you’ve let inside even a little bit can leave you gutted.”
“I suppose. I was gutted enough.” He laid his hand over her roaming fingers. “You keep that up, woman, and you’re going to be fighting a fire of another kind.”
“Maybe that’s what I want.”
“And maybe you’ve just been to hell and back and want to forget it for a while. You might not be happy in the morning.”
* * *
A few seconds later, she abruptly sat up, and soon he was so grateful he had drawn the curtains early tonight. She reached for the buttons of her shirt and began undoing them.
“As we both discovered tonight,” she said steadily, “there might not be a morning.”
He was sure his jaw must have dropped a little. Never in his life had a woman sat in front of him and started removing her clothes. Some part of him screamed that he’d better stop this now because if she wound up hating him...
But then the buttons were undone and she shrugged the shirt from her shoulders, tossing it. “You liked it when I flirted with you this morning,” she said with a knowing smile.
“Yeah. I’m never going to forget it, or the sound of your stockings. But Charity...”
“Oh, hush. I think you want this as much as I do.”
He couldn’t deny it as he stared at her breasts, cupped in the kind of lacy confection he’d hitherto only seen in a catalogue or a movie. Women actually wore that stuff? Pristine white, but lacy and silky looking. The mounds that filled it promised to be full and gorgeous. His blood began to thunder in his ears.
She touched the front of it, twisting her fingers just a bit, and the bra fell open. She spilled free, firm round globes tipped in pink with generous nipples that were already engorging.
His groin throbbed so sharply it almost hurt, and his jeans began to feel way too tight.
Then she stood. He held his breath as she unbuttoned her jeans. The sound of the zipper drawing down seemed loud, the only sound in the world except his own rapid heartbeat, his speeding breaths.
Shimmying slightly, she pushed the jeans and her undies down, stepping out of them and kicking them aside. Standing there in an unclasped bra and socks, she was absolutely the sexiest thing he had ever seen in his life.
If the phone rang, he was going to kill someone.
She smiled at him, running her tongue over her lips. Then she lifted one of those beautiful long legs and wiggled it at him as she had that morning, this time exposing the delightful secrets between her thighs. “Socks,” she said, her voice husky. “Not nylons. Sorry.”
There were a million sensible reasons why they shouldn’t do this, but if he voiced a single one of them right now she’d be hurt. Badly hurt. She’d exposed herself, and putting her off would be the cruelest of rejections. His clarity of thought was fading anyway. Pounding desire was taking over, within moments of drowning him in need.
She cast the bra aside, then twisted around, giving him a view of a perfect rump, and one second later she dropped into his lap and leaned back. He nearly groaned as his staff throbbed in reaction.
“You should have been named Lilith,” he muttered thickly, and gave up the battle. His mouth closed over hers hungrily, tasting her and a hint of coffee. His hand closed over one of those incredible breasts, squeezing gently at first, running his thumb over her nipple.
The shiver that passed through her was of an entirely different kind than earlier. He felt her passion as he felt his own, a moment of coming together that transcended ordinary reality.
She reached up an arm, winding it around his neck, deepening t
heir kiss with a small moan in the back of her throat. His desire for her became a galloping stallion, racing across summer-heated fields, unstoppable and full of joyous life.
He squirmed a little beneath her, increasing the pressure of her weight on his erection. Already he felt close to exploding, but he wanted to drag out every single second of this encounter.
She moaned, encouraging him. He squeezed her breast harder, pinching her hardened nipple until a soft cry escaped her. Then, impatient beyond belief to know every part of her, his hand started to drift down to the nest between her legs.
The doorbell rang.
He swore as she jerked back. “Damn it,” he said thickly. “I can’t ignore it. It could be a cop. It could be about Lindy.”
Her gaze snapped quickly into focus, all the haziness of pleasure disappearing. He didn’t want to let go of her, but when she tugged, he did. He saw concern in those hazel eyes, a shift. “Sometimes I hate reality,” he muttered.
She quickly gathered up her clothes and headed for the bathroom, a quiet laugh escaping her. “You’re not going to get off so easily, Chief.”
Man, he hoped not.
As soon as he heard the bathroom door close behind her, he opened the front door. He fully expected to see one of the cops standing there, most likely to give him a little more information about the incident at Charity’s place. He was fairly certain it had nothing to do with his daughter because the movie wasn’t even over yet.
Instead, he was astonished to see Donna Willem. She was off duty for a few days so what business could she possibly have?
“Hi, Donna,” he said. “What’s up?”
“Just wondering about Charity Atkins. The guys kind of like her and we all know about the carbon monoxide thing. I said I’d come ask, since they’re all stuck at the firehouse.”
She couldn’t have called? Any one of them could have called. He stood there, feeling caught flat-footed, although he couldn’t say why. As far as anyone knew, he’d offered Charity the use of his guest room for a night or two.
“She’s fine,” he said. “Fortunately. But she can’t stay in Hank’s rental until he fixes the furnace, so she’s going to use my guest room.”
Donna smiled and nodded. “I’ll tell the guys everything’s okay. I guess they’re kind of feeling left out.”
Or Donna was, he thought. Weird. He was looking at her, and for the very first time wondering about her. She was such a levelheaded presence. Calming usually. Of all his crew, he most counted on Donna to remain cool. So why not a phone call?
He heard the bathroom door open behind him, and couldn’t help but turn, fearing what he might see. But there was nothing to fear. Charity looked neat as a pin, right down to every last hair on her head, all primly pinned up right now, and carrying her laptop. No one could ever guess where they’d been headed just a few minutes ago.
“Hi, Donna,” Charity said brightly. “Nice to see you. I was just going to ask Wayne if he could make some more coffee.” She held up her laptop. “Work never ends.”
“I guess not,” said Donna. “Well, I didn’t come to bother you. The guys were just worrying.”
“Aw, that’s so nice,” Charity said pleasantly. “I like the guys, and you, too. I’m going to miss you all when I go home. But as you see...” She held out her arm. “Trying to wrap things up is all.”
Wayne figured he might be missing something here. He didn’t like that feeling. “Why don’t you come in, Donna? You can have some coffee and call the guys from here.”
Donna hesitated, then shook her head. “Thanks, but I said I’d come back. There’s a great poker game going on right now. I don’t trust them not to heist my chips.” She gave a little wave and headed to the car she had parked out front. Wayne watched her drive away before he closed the door.
“Weird,” he said aloud this time.
“You have a watchdog.” Charity sat on the couch and put the laptop on the coffee table.
“Oh, come on.”
“Seriously. That wasn’t about me. Not really. It was about you. I think that woman has her eye on you.”
“She works for me! And she’s never done anything...”
“Coffee every morning,” Charity said. “Even though you’ve asked her to stop. How many other little things? She won’t cross any lines unless you invite her to in some way, but she didn’t stop here to make sure I wasn’t dead. She wanted to know if I was staying with you.”
“So now she knows.” And so would everyone else in town, but he’d known that would happen anyway. Secrets were hard to keep around here.
“Sorry. I can go stay at the motel.”
“Hell no. Absolutely not.” Anger began to stir in him.
She looked at him kindly. “Wayne, you have a daughter to think about, and a future here as fire chief. Do you want the whole town gossiping about how you had a fling with me?”
He snorted. “Lindy’s hoping for exactly that, the minx. As for the rest of the town... If there’s one thing I’ve learned living in a place like this, it’s that you just have to live your life as you choose. If you start wondering what’ll be passing around the rumor mill, you’ll never leave your house.”
He paused as a thought struck him. “Hell, I wonder if that was what was getting to my ex. Not just that she found this place boring, but the knowledge that there was no way to kick up her heels without everyone knowing.”
He sat suddenly on the end of the couch. Had Lisa wanted to have an affair? Had she realized that if she did he’d hear about it before long? Had she been pining after some other guy? Just the thought felt like a gut punch even after all this time.
“You don’t know that, Wayne,” Charity said quietly. “So don’t imagine it.”
“Well, she left a great big hole to fill with imaginings,” he said a bit bitterly. “I’ve been wondering if being bored with the town was code for being bored with me. Tired of me. If I did something wrong. If I failed to do something.”
“Probably all of the above,” Charity said bluntly. It startled him out of his descending spiral of thoughts. “We all screw up sometimes. Guess she gutted you anyway, Chief.”
He looked at her, wondering at the shift in her. This woman had been lying naked in his lap fifteen minutes ago, and now she was cool and reserved again. Had Donna’s appearance reminded her that she was only here temporarily? Had she changed her mind once she had a few minutes alone to quiet the emotional storm?
If so, he was glad. He certainly didn’t want to be some kind of painkiller she’d regret taking in the morning. On the other hand, he was sure he was going to regret never having made love with her. It had been a very long time since he’d wanted a woman the way he wanted this one. As if his heart had been on ice, or maybe he’d been aware he had a daughter to raise and needed to set a good example.
Change was as inevitable as breathing, though. Linda was leaving in a few months. He was going to have to change one way or another, start building a new life.
Given what Charity had confided about herself, he guessed she wouldn’t be the best person to do that with. But a fling? Well, it would have to remain one to be safe. What if it didn’t?
And once again he was wondering what the hell was going on inside Charity’s head. She’d been vamping him a short while ago, and now she was cool as a cucumber. Donna had definitely altered some delicate balance.
Or maybe she was still on an emotional seesaw because someone had tried to kill her. He wasn’t aware of any manual that said a person had to react in certain ways and in any certain order. Anyone who thought they knew how someone should handle a shock clearly didn’t know how wildly different people could be.
He opened his mouth, deciding to take the bull by the horns when his doorbell rang again. “Oh, for the love of Mike,” he said irritably. It didn’t help to he
ar Charity giggle softly as he went to open the door again. Or to hear her begin tapping at her computer keys.
“Grand Central Station,” he muttered as he reached for the doorknob. He opened the door, and to his relief he found a deputy this time. Sarah Ironheart. A little taller than average, with long gray-dashed black hair, wearing her deputy’s uniform.
“Hey,” she said. “Sorry to bother you, but Gage got to worrying. He does that sometimes.”
“Come on in and join the party,” he said, trying to sound pleasant but feeling far from it. Stymied sexual needs were goading him, leaving him feeling cranky.
Sarah leaned in a little and waved to Charity. “That’s Ms. Atkins?”
Wayne stepped back. “Come on in. Really.” Might as well deal with the whole mess right now. At this rate, he might have the city council on his doorstep in the next hour.
Sarah stepped in, introducing herself to Charity. Wayne went to make more coffee while the two women chatted casually. While it brewed, he returned and joined them.
“Actually,” Sarah said, “I’m not just here to check that Charity is okay. Gage is really concerned about this, so we’re setting a watch on your house tonight, Wayne.”
“A watch?” He sat on the couch. “This person isn’t attacking me.” But even as he spoke he knew he’d brought the danger home with him. She was sitting at the other end of the couch, with a laptop on the coffee table in front of her. “You’re right,” he said before she could answer.
“I think we’ve moved past the point of a firebug who might have underestimated what would happen in the Buell fire. Don’t you?”
“I’ve never underestimated this guy,” he said flatly.
Charity spoke. “But until tonight... Well, most arsonists aren’t murderers. They like fires. Most deaths associated are incidental to the fire.”
“Collateral damage.” Sarah nodded, her dark hair swaying slightly. She usually kept it pinned up and out of the way, but tonight it hung like a veil. She must have been called in suddenly. “I get it. But we’ve moved past that, obviously.”