Heatwave (6 page)

At the moment, her grandmother needed her to see to the day-to-day running of the Norris Culinary Academy. When the doctor released Grandy from the hospital, Emily would be here to look after her. But once Grandy recovered, Emily would need a job and a place to live. By that time, her pregnancy would no doubt be showing, and her chances of finding an advertising firm willing to employ a woman preparing to take twelve to sixteen weeks of family leave within months of being hired were slim to none. She could always temp until after the baby was born, provided she found an agency that dealt with advertising executive placement.

She glanced up in time to see Drew walking toward her. Her concerns took a back seat as she stared, entranced by the way his shirt clung damply to his chest. As he neared, she spied rivulets of sweat running from his hairline. He stopped and crouched beside her. Using his biceps, he swiped at the sweat on his brow. Rumpled and sweaty from digging through the rubble under the stifling heat, he still managed to exude more than enough sex appeal to send her feminine senses into a frenzy of activity.

Her imagination took off like a racehorse at the first bell. Drew’s sweat-slicked body moved over hers. His hands glided over her own moistened flesh, creating a heat wave inside her as he…

Cleared his throat?

A frown creased his brow. The green of his eyes darkened, making him appear cold and unapproachable. “Pack your things,” he said in a tone filled with authority. “You’re not staying here tonight.”

She bristled, not appreciating his high-handedness in the least. With her hands still braced behind her on the grass, she casually unfolded her legs and stretched them out in front of her. “I’m not going anywhere.” The thought of room service tempted her, but without gainful employment, she needed to be careful with her money.

He let out a rough sigh and shoved his hand through his windblown hair. “Emily,” he said wearily, “don’t argue with me. It’s not safe for you to stay here alone.”

She lifted her shoulder carelessly. “I’m not leaving, so you can forget it.” She’d already been tossed out of one home. She’d be damned if she’d be booted from another—all in the same week.

“You need to understand that this is a serious situation. A few oily rags left lying near a faulty electrical outlet didn’t cause this fire. Nor did a carelessly tossed match. This was an intentionally set blaze, and it’s pure dumb luck the house or the school weren’t taken, as well.” He let out a sigh. “Emily, you need to close the school.”

“I appreciate your concern, but I can’t do that. I spoke to the two officers, and they’re going to see to it that the area is patrolled.”

“That’s not good enough,” he said roughly.

She lifted an eyebrow. “Well, it’s just going to have to be. We can’t afford to close down and I’m not leaving
so some nutcase is free to torch everything my grandmother has ever worked for.” She pulled her feet close and stood. “Thank you for your concern and for all you’ve done. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll see you Monday evening.”

She took off toward the house. She understood his concern, but since there’d been no loss of life and the building, insofar as building codes went, was not a hazard, the decision belonged to her. Ultimately, Grandy could close the school, but she’d made her opinion clear when she’d refused to cancel classes.

Okay, so the idea of being alone didn’t exactly thrill her, but no way would she turn tail and run. She’d meant what she’d said. If she had to patrol the area herself, she’d do it. Maybe she’d even look for Pop’s old varmint gun.

She stepped inside the coolness of the house. When she turned to close the door, she nearly crashed into Drew’s imposing frame blocking her path. She tipped her head back and almost winced at the irritation and frustration simmering in his mesmerizing eyes.

“I take it from the look on your face that you’re not here for a goodbye kiss,” she said, annoyed by the husky tone in her voice.

His gaze dipped to her mouth, and she had the sudden urge to draw her tongue across her bottom lip. She had an idea what it was like to kiss him. Hot. Wild. And if her subconscious was telling the truth, wholly intoxicating. The idea of doing so again, especially while conscious, suddenly held dangerous, tempting appeal.

She took a step backward and looked away from him before she did something really stupid, like wreath her arms around his neck and pull him down for a steamy, demanding kiss, the kind destined to curl her toes and start her body revving with anticipation.

The door snapped closed. She glanced up, and for the space of a heartbeat, hoped he’d be on the other side of it.

No such luck.

As if she had any, anyway.

“You can’t really believe staying here is going to make a difference?”

“Yes, I do,” she told him, determined to keep her mind on the conversation and not on the way he continued to sneak peeks at her mouth. “If we hadn’t been at the hospital today, then this might never have happened.”

He glared at her. “You can’t be serious.”

She folded her arms and glared right back at him. “Very serious.”

“I know a hell of a lot more about the characteristics of an arsonist than you do,” he snapped at her. “And if you think for a second that you can prevent him from striking again, you’re mistaken.”

“Good,” she said sarcastically. “Then maybe I’ll catch the bastard in action.”

In two long strides, he narrowed the space between them. His large, warm hands settled gently on her arms. Sparks shot through her and settled with pinpoint accuracy between her thighs.

“I’m not trying to be the bad guy here.” His gaze
softened, causing her insides to melt at the concern banked within those green depths. “I’m worried about you, Em. Is that such a crime?”

No, she thought.
That
wasn’t a crime. Good thing those cops weren’t around, because if his thoughts were anywhere near as illicit as hers, they’d surely be arrested for lewd and lascivious conduct.

T
HE SHAKE
, rattle and roll of the San Andreas Fault wouldn’t have stopped Drew from taking the next fatal step toward real danger. The blame lay at Emily’s feet. Never had he encountered such an exasperating, stubborn, sinfully sensual woman.

His conscience told him
no
. Walk away now and keep going until he’d gained enough distance not to be able to stare into her big brown eyes or admire the way her backside curved or how her breasts pressed against her lemon-colored sleeveless sweater with each breath she drew into her lungs. Even the warning that he was about to complicate his life failed to provide him with the willpower to walk away and never look back.

He slid his hands up her arms, over her exposed shoulders and the remaining distance to the nape of her slender neck. If she tasted anywhere near as sweet as she felt beneath his fingertips, he’d be a goner in no time flat.

What was it about this particular woman, he wondered. Why, out of all the women he’d dated—and there’d been plenty—was she the one to stir his protective instincts, to make him forget his cardinal rule of absolutely no involvement? He intentionally kept his affairs entanglement-free because he never wanted to
be the cause of the kind of pain that accompanied emotional involvement.

He had to be losing his mind. In his opinion, ever since Emily Dugan had fainted at his feet, the question of his sanity had been seriously up for debate. A synapse or two had to be misfiring. Personal involvement wasn’t his style. His relationships with women were always light and easy, absolutely no strings attached. With the exception of his family and Tilly, the avoidance of emotional entanglements was as second nature to him as breathing.

For the life of him, he had no easy answers. All he knew was that if he didn’t taste her, his sanity would no longer be an issue.

He lightly pressed his thumb against the pulse throbbing at her throat. The beat was steady, sure and a hundred times less erratic than his own. He drew in a long, slow breath, taking in her fresh, clean scent, a lethal combination of tropical perfumed soap and soft femininity, capable of bringing him to his knees.

Her eyes darkened, the color reminding him of thunderclouds at midnight. Wild. Untamable. A power he deeply respected. A hypnotic, sensual power she effortlessly and unconsciously wielded over him in ways he’d never imagined possible.

He dipped his head, but stopped before his lips brushed against hers. There was no indecision on his part, nor, he suspected, on hers. Still, he hesitated, wanting to know with absolute certainty she would be a willing participant.

Seconds ticked by with each heavy beat of his heart. Her warm breath caressed his lips.

“This is a mistake,” she whispered as her hands landed on his chest.

He waited for her to push him away. She didn’t.

He shrugged carelessly, as if kissing her hadn’t suddenly become more important than drawing his next breath. “What’s life without a few mistakes along the way?”

Her generous mouth curved and her soft laughter made him smile. “Pretty darned boring.”

With her gaze locked on his, she leaned in, then traced the tip of her tongue in an erotic path along his bottom lip. Heat shot south faster than an accelerant-induced out-of-control fire.

He gathered her in his arms and pulled her the remaining distance. His mouth captured hers, and he found heaven. Tongues tangled and mated insistently. Hands moved frantically, exploring with hurried impatience. Bodies heated to temperatures rivaling the week-long heatwave blanketing the city.

Need clawed his gut. The touch of her skin beneath his hands drove him to distraction. The taste of her mouth, along with the erotic silken glide of her tongue against his, fed the powerful hunger inside him.

His control took a dive. When she plastered her body against his, he hardly cared, and urged her even closer. The tips of her fingers moved enticingly over his arms, then before he could think, she urgently tugged his shirt from the waistband of his trousers. His testosterone
level shot through the roof like the flames of a four-alarm blaze.

Conflicting sensations, the heat of her hands smoothing over his torso and the cool blast from the air-conditioning, only served to heighten the intensity of the spell she cast over him.

Blindly, he managed to guide them to the sofa where he gently followed her down onto the soft, overstuffed cushions. She clung to him, her lush, full breasts pressing intimately against his chest. Silently, he cursed her sweater. He wanted to be skin to skin. Breast to chest. Bared thigh to bared thigh.

Her hands moved over his body, each touch another stroke that had him leaving common sense behind and carried him closer to the brink of no return. Her fingers eased down his chest, until she slid her hand between their bodies and cupped his erection through his trousers. A barely detectable moan filled with need erupted, and he had no idea if he’d made the sound or if the erotic purr had come from Emily. He was almost past caring.

She shifted beneath him to hook her leg around his, holding his body intimately against hers despite the clothing separating them. When her hips rose to meet his in a silent old-as-time invitation, he groaned from the sweet, delicious agony of being unprepared to fulfill the natural culmination of their lovemaking. Contrary to his reputation, he didn’t walk around with a pocketful of condoms.

With deep regret, he slipped his hand around her satiny-smooth calf and gently eased her leg onto the
sofa. “Emily, we can’t.” The strain of his voice pierced the silence.

Her own pained expression matched the ache inside him. “We can’t?”

“I’m sorry, honey.” Using his elbows for support, he smoothed the hair from her face with his hands, then placed a quick, hard kiss on her lips. “You don’t know how sorry I am, but I don’t have any protection.”

Her eyebrows rose. “It’s not like you can knock me up, you know,” she sassed, then winced the second the words left her mouth. “I apologize. That was a really bad thing to say.”

He didn’t care much for the reminder, either, but he’d never made a habit of avoiding the truth. He had a serious case of the hots, and he didn’t think it’d matter if she were carrying a set of quadruplets. Heaven help him, he’d still want her.

He eased back to sit on the cushion. Instead of taking advantage of the distance between them to regain his composure and cool his libido, he foolishly lifted her slender ankles, slipped off her sandals and settled her feet across his lap. “Tell me about it.”

Both of her eyebrows winged up in surprise. “About what? The baby?”

He shrugged. “The baby. The baby’s father.” Just because the guy dumped her, as she’d so indelicately phrased it, didn’t mean he wouldn’t walk back into her life when he came to his senses and realized what an incredible woman he’d let slip through his sorry fingers.

She lay back on the sofa and stared at him quietly for a few moments. “Are you for real?” she finally asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she said, her eyes filled with obvious confusion, “what planet are you from?”

He frowned, not sure if she’d just insulted him or not. “Excuse me?”

She adjusted the tapestry throw pillows behind her and settled back again. “I thought guys like you only existed on the silver screen. You know—make-believe, fiction, the unrealistic object of some silly romantic notion that fairy tales can happen.”

Ah, a cynic after his own heart. “Why?” He took her foot in the palm of his hand and gently massaged the arch of her foot. “Because I’d like to learn more about you?”

“It’s not just that. First you keep a promise to some goofball doctor who mistakenly thinks you’re my husband. You not only stay the night when you obviously have so many other places to go, but then you go and hang out with me half the night and nearly all day in a hospital room with an old woman. If that’s not enough to earn you some sort of medal of honor, you agree, albeit reluctantly, to teach gourmet cooking classes all while attempting to track down an arsonist.”

Considering how much he detested hospitals, he hadn’t been all that comfortable spending so much time in one, but in his opinion, she’d needed him, if only for silent emotional support.

The mythical white charger reared up, pawed the
air, then took off like a shot, leaving behind a cloud of dust…and confusion.

“Now,” she continued, “you want to know about my baby, and even my baby’s father.
After
we almost make love. When do I get to see the web shooting out of your palms so you can scale tall buildings in a single bound?”

“Superman does the tall building trick.” Drew reserved his talents for foot massages. Among other things.

“Well, excuse me, Mr. Superhero, but those khakis aren’t doing much to hide your blue tights.”

“Maybe I’m just interested in a beautiful woman.” It worked for him.

“I think it’s an extremely inventive method of trying to score.” The wry humor in her voice belied the wariness in her eyes.

The caution intrigued him. Hell, just about everything about Emily intrigued him. Which should have had him bolting for safety, not playing masseuse because he couldn’t not touch her.

“Look,” she said. “Even though my judgment when it comes to men is severely flawed, I really do think you’re a nice guy. I just want to know if you’re for real.”

He hadn’t been dealt the hero gene. Cale was the one with that complex. Even Ben played the role to perfection, but only when it came to the job. Neither Drew norBen was anywhere near as obsessed as Cale had once been. These days, his brother reserved his heroic talents for his future bride.

Drew shrugged. “I only agreed to take on the classes in hopes of nailing a firebug.”

“And that’s the only reason?”

“Should there be another one?”

The delicate arch of her brows rose a notch, as if she didn’t believe him. Funny, he was having his own difficulties with the subject.

“I’m asking the questions here.”

He settled her foot back onto his lap and lifted the other into his palm. “I’m not too thrilled about the teaching aspect, but you made a good argument. It could lead me to the arsonist. In this case, I didn’t arrive on scene until after everyone had been sent home. There weren’t any students or teachers at the school by the time I showed up. No one has seen me, so it just might work.”

He enjoyed talking with her, holding an intelligent conversation. Not exactly a claim he could make about most of the women he dated.

He didn’t want to discuss his investigation, primarily because he didn’t relish telling her that whoever was setting fires had upped the stakes. He’d easily determined the cause of the garage fire, and while the cause wasn’t particularly sophisticated, the arsonist had graduated from common vegetable oil to gasoline.

He had no idea if the school had been suffering financial difficulties, but he did have his suspicions on that score even if he had dismissed the idea that someone was setting the fires to cash in on the insurance, which effectively removed Velma from his list of possible suspects. He had his doubts about a garden-variety
pyromaniac, as well. The person responsible for starting the fires had one goal, and in Drew’s opinion, revenge for some perceived wrong stood out as the strongest motivating factor.

He pressed his thumbs into the ball of her foot and rotated them slowly.

“God, where’d you learn to do that?” Her lashes fluttered closed and a soft moan of pleasure escaped her lips, causing him agony.

“You sound like you’re sorry you talked me into taking over those classes. What’s the matter, Emily?” he asked softly. “You don’t like having me around?”

She opened one eye to a slit. “I don’t care one way or another just so long as you keep doing what you’re doing.”

“You never did answer my question.”

She let out a sigh, but kept her eyes closed. “I thought we were talking about you.”

He ceased the foot massage, and after a moment, she opened her eyes. “Hey,” she said, pointing toward her feet. “We’re not done here.”

He chuckled. “You want more, it’s gonna cost you.”

“Why do I have a feeling this is going to be one very expensive foot massage?”

He smiled.

Her gaze narrowed with suspicion. “Ooh, for a superhero you don’t play fair.”

“Talk to me, Emily.” The timer on the lamp clicked on, chasing away the deepening shadows of early dusk. “What happened to the baby’s father?”

“Just one more in a long line of bad choices.”

His curiosity climbed a notch. “Do you think he’ll find being a parent will cramp his style?” Drew had known for years that fatherhood wasn’t for him, which was why he never played without protection. Regardless of how careful he might be, accidents could still happen, but despite his own views on the subject, he’d never turn his back on his child.

“He doesn’t exactly know yet, so I’m not sure,” she answered slowly. “It’s not like this was a planned pregnancy.”

Which meant the guy could easily come back into her life when she told him they’d created a child together. “You do plan on telling him, right?” Something sharp pierced him. Jealousy?

Never. Not him.

“It’s a little complicated,” she said.

“Is he married?” Emily didn’t strike him as the kind of woman to have an affair with a married man.

“No, of course not.” She hesitated and bit her lower lip. “Well…he could be by now for all I know. He left me for another woman.”

Ouch.

“I’d been working horrendous hours and came down with a wicked cold. I didn’t have time to go see a doctor, so Charlie stocked me up on cold medications. I never for a minute thought about the effect they’d have on my birth control. Because of the hours I was putting in on the ad campaign, I figured it was just exhaustion and I was having a rough time bouncing back. When the flu, or what I thought was the flu, hit
me, not once did I even consider that I might be pregnant.”

“You are going to tell him, though.”

Nice work, Drew. Next time you can hold the door open for her so she can rush back into the sorry S.O.B.’s arms
.