Playing With Fire (11 page)

"Nothing.” She sniffed. “So what do you want?"

"I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd drop by."

Acting on his impulses, he took a seat beside her, after first moving a metal supply box out of the way. Usually he'd run at the first sign of tears, but he didn't feel that way with Lindsay. Quite the opposite. Instead, he wanted to take her in his arms and hold her until her crying subsided.

She instantly stiffened and turned blazing green eyes on him. “You have no right to be here."

"None whatsoever.” Before she could react, he grabbed hold of her and lifted her onto his lap. True to form, she rebelled.

"Let me go!” she hissed, kicking out with her feet and shoving her hands into his chest.

"Quiet. Do you want someone to hear us?” He'd meant to comfort her, but all her squirming was having an adverse effect on him. On her, too. With each movement, her erect nipple brushed against the front of his tee-shirt.

"I don't care."

"Of course, you do.” He captured her wrists in one hand. With the other, he supported her back. “You're a slave to protocol."

"And that's so—"

He brought his mouth down on hers.

Hard. Hot. Hungry.

The fight drained out of her and she went slack in his arms, but only momentarily. When he released her wrists, she drove her fingers into his hair and returned his kiss with like ardor. Curling into him, she moaned softly. Matt readjusted her weight to lessen the pressure on his swelling erection.

They broke apart, breathless, their hearts pounding. He dropped tiny kisses on her damp cheeks, her chin, her forehead.

"We can't do this."

"Shh.” He pressed her head to his shoulder. “Everything will be fine. You'll see."

She started crying again. Her whole body shook with silent sobs. He gathered her to him and soothed her as one might a small child. Eventually, she stopped.

"How did you know I was in here?” she asked in a scratchy whisper, not lifting her head.

"Booter gave you away. He was right outside the door, whimpering. Didn't you hear him?"

"No. The last time I saw him, he was sleeping in my bedroom. I suppose I should get him."

"He's all right. I gave him a bowl of Cheerios. That should keep him busy."

"For about five seconds."

He felt her smile. “Lindsay—"

"Don't say anything. Please.” She put a finger to his lips. “I'm too raw for any well-meaning words."

"Okay.” He angled his head and nuzzled the inside of her arm, nipping at the tender skin there. Then he worked his way up to her elbow.

"Not a good idea, Matt.” She tried to wiggle free, but he only tightened his grasp on her.

"I think it's a very good idea.” He lifted his head and brought his lips to within an inch of hers. “Kiss me."

"In your dreams."

"Still mad about the test scores?"

"Fuming."

"Physical activity is great outlet for venting frustrations."

"So, you won't mind if I sock you.” She cuffed him lightly on the arm.

"I had a different sort of physical activity in mind.” His fingers glided up her leg and under the hem of her shorts.

"Are you insane?” She pushed his hand away. “Emilio and Dennis will hear us."

"They're sound asleep."

"For the moment. A flea hopping off Booter would make enough racket to wake them."

"Then we'll have to be really careful. None of that screaming like the other night."

She cuffed him on the arm again, a little harder.

"Kiss me,” he repeated.

"Go to hell,” she said, then did as he demanded and kissed him.

With her help, he yanked her shirt from the waist band of her shorts and drove his hand underneath, desperate to touch her bare skin. She was warm and silky and smelled like soap. He pulled her shirt higher, exposing a band of creamy flesh, and found out she also tasted like soap.

God, he wanted her, with every fiber of his being and not just for his lover. His girlfriend? Definitely. Live-in companion? Possibly. Probably. Wife? Whoa!

Why didn't the thought of marrying Lindsay scare the pants off him? He'd have to dwell on that later. When he wasn't so preoccupied with an uncooperative zipper.

She didn't object when he unfastened her shorts and hiked them down to her knees. Nor when he parted her legs and toyed with the elastic leg bands of her panties.

A loud roaring filled his ears, drowning out all coherent thought. What they were doing went beyond dangerous. Well into the realm of suicidal. Matt's excitement grew with each passing second they avoided detection. He hadn't experienced such an illicit thrill since his sister's friend, Mary Beth Shoemaker, let him feel her up behind the bleachers at a high school football game. She'd been a senior, he a lowly junior. Before tonight, that memory had stood out as his most daring sexual escapade.

The panties came off, making way for his fingers, which found their target and quickly established a pattern. In and out. Faster and faster. Lindsay bucked and made a low noise in the back of her throat.

"I want to kiss you, Lindsay.” When her lips grazed his chin, he pulled back and said, “No. Not on the mouth.” He stroked her. “I want to kiss you here.” His thumb found the very center of her and circled it. “And here, too.” She tensed, sucked in a harsh breath. “I will, too. Soon,” he promised.

That was all it took. He swallowed her cries with his mouth and held her until the spasms ended.

"You'd better get dressed,” he said and eased her to her feet. He'd put her at enough risk for one day. Making her climax, learning she still wanted him despite their differences, was enough to satisfy him. Well, almost enough.

"What about you?” she asked, tucking in her shirt and buttoning her shorts.

"What about me?"

"Aren't you ... wouldn't you like..."

"Yes, I'd like.” He held her by the hips, positioning her in front of him, and kissed her belly through her shirt. “But this wasn't for me. It was for you."

"There you go again. Being noble."

He didn't know if she was joking or serious. She knelt in front of him, and he realized how serious she was. “You don't have to.” Yeah. Tell that to his throbbing erection.

She covered him with her hands. “Trust me. I'm not doing this out of any misguided obligation."

Jolts of pleasure ricocheted through him. “Why then?” he rasped.

"Call it a power struggle.” She opened his shorts.

With each ping of the zipper teeth, Matt relinquished more and more of his free will. “I give up. You win."

"Not so fast,” she purred. Taking his rock hard penis in her hands, she began to stroke him. “I told you before. I'll succeed on my own, not because you disqualify yourself."

Damned if she wasn't true to her word. With the speed and fury of an engine barreling through traffic, he reached the point of no return. Lindsay sensed it and increased the pressure.

Matt gripped the bench seat and swore as his lower body convulsed. Sweat popped out on his face, neck and arms. Colorful spots of light danced in front of his eyes. They faded only when his pulse rate dropped to below two hundred beats a minute.

Lindsay stood and extended a hand to him. “We'd better go."

They both knew they'd pushed their luck to the limit.

He dressed hurriedly, then pulled her in his arms for a last tender kiss. “We have a breakfast date this morning."

"Matt."

"Breakfast,” he reiterated. “We need to talk."

Reluctantly, she nodded.

"Are you always this stubborn?"

"I'm not stubborn.” Her chin jutted out.

"Neither is a mule.” He pinched her chin between his finger and thumb. “Don't worry. I like that about you. I like a lot of things about you, Lindsay. We can review the complete list at breakfast."

"What's that noise?” Lindsay turned toward the door. “Did you hear something?"

"Booter must have finished his cereal."

Lindsay gave an exasperated huff. “That dog is a sweetheart, but he can be a real pain in the butt sometimes."

Giving himself and her a hasty once over, Matt hustled them to the door. He opened it, and Lindsay stepped out.

She came face to face not with the station mascot, but with Dennis.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk.” The beefy man sneered at them. “Isn't this cozy? I wonder what the captain will say when I tell him Pfeiffer was in the equipment room playing kissy-face with Callahan?"

Chapter 7

Lindsay tried her best to avoid having breakfast with Matt, but he refused to take no for an answer and dogged her the entire way from the station to her car in the back parking lot. She agreed, only because she didn't want to make a fuss in front of Dennis and Emilio, who also happened to be leaving. She and Matt did need to talk, and they'd be better off doing so in public. In private, they tended to lose their heads, as well as a fair amount of their clothing.

Why, she didn't know. She'd never acted like that with any other man and the fact she did with Matt confused and worried her. Reckless abandon wasn't her style.

What happened in the equipment room proved they couldn't be trusted. If Dennis had shown up one minute earlier, they'd be seated in Emilio's office receiving the reprimand they so richly deserved rather than at a corner booth in
Denny's Restaurant
. And would be, if not for Matt's quickly concocted and coolly delivered explanation. Lindsay still had trouble believing Dennis bought Matt's story about them checking the oxygen levels in the tanks. Or maybe he didn't and was biding his time until he caught her and Matt red-handed.

Only one solution made sense: end it with Matt before something terrible happened.

"So, what'll it be?” the waitress asked, pouring coffee into their mugs.

Despite skipping breakfast with the crew that morning, Lindsay had no interest in eating. She'd been on edge ever since the encounter with Dennis and the idea of food, any food, turned her stomach. Finally, she decided on a bagel and told the waitress. “Toasted with butter, please."

"And how about you?” The waitress turned to Matt.

"I'll take the Western Grand Slam, scrambled, with a side of toast and a large orange juice."

Hmph
. Lindsay fumed. Nothing wrong with his appetite.

"I'll be right back with your juice.” The waitress gave them a distracted grin and scurried off, instantly lost in the breakfast-rush crowd.

Lindsay fiddled with her silverware, her mind blank as a whiteboard. Staring at a chip in the Formica table didn't help bring her thoughts into focus.

"You first,” Matt said, taking two sugar packets from the dish of condiments and shaking them so the contents shifted to the bottom.

"What?” She cursed her nervous reaction.

He ripped open the sugar packets and emptied them into his coffee. “You're obviously upset, so let's hear it.” He made a beckoning motion with his hand.

Not for the first time, Lindsay wished she were more like Mahina. Her stepsister had a knack for handling men, especially when it came to breaking up with them. Stabbing her paper napkin with her fork, Lindsay mumbled, “Well ... um ... I'm..."

"You're worried that Dennis will report us to Emilio."

"Yes. And ... I ... think...” There were now several dozen holes in her paper napkin.

"You think we should end this before we do something really dumb, like lose our jobs,” he finished for her.

"That's right.” It annoyed her that he could so easily second-guess her, and that annoyance gave her the use of her voice. “A personal relationship is out of the question. We can't handle it. All it takes is one kiss and the next thing you know, boom.” Her hands sliced the air as she talked. “Good judgment flies right out the window. It's happened twice already. And in the process, we hurt a good friend, endangered our jobs, and lied to a coworker."

Out of steam, she paused, then frowned. Why was he smiling at her? This wasn't funny.

"Don't you agree?"

"No,” he said, thoughtfully knitting his brow.

The waitress appeared with his juice, and Lindsay waited until they were once more alone.

"No?"

He spoke slowly, enunciating each word. “A personal relationship isn't out of the question."

She shook her head. It never occurred to her he'd disagree, though it should have. He could be so damn argumentative. Taking a firm approach, she said, “I want to end it."

"Well I don't.” His smile broadened.

"Y-y-you can't d-do that."

He took a sip of his coffee, then set the mug down. Propping his elbows on the table, he leaned forward and said, “If you think I'm going to give up without a fight, you're crazy. I'll take on Dennis, the department, the city, and even you if I have to. What we have is that important and that special."

Dumbstruck, she gaped at him. And continued to gape at him all the while the waitress served their breakfast.

Matt spread jelly on his toast, his broad smile back in place. “Eat up,” he said and took a big bite.

Swell
, Lindsay thought when functionality at last returned.
What now?

"Oh, my God! You and Matt had sex in the equipment room at the station?” Mahina threw back her head and let out a loud whoop. She was perched on the edge of Lindsay's bed, soaking up every word as Lindsay recounted what had happened the last twenty-four hours, starting with the engineer test results and progressing from there. “Who'd have thought stuffy old Lindsay Pfeiffer had it in her? I'm impressed, stepsister."

"Don't be. It was stupid. Really, really stupid. I don't know what I was thinking."

"Who thinks in a situation like that?” Mahina's silly grin stretched from ear to ear. “I'd do the same thing in your shoes.” She sighed dreamily. “Would I ever."

"Mahina. Be serious."

Lindsay sat cross-legged on the bed with her back propped against the headboard. The oversized nightshirt she wore reached her knees, and she plucked at the hem as she talked. She'd been sleeping soundly until Mahina showed up fifteen minutes earlier and held a steaming cup of Starbucks coffee under her nose.

No matter what hour of the day Lindsay awoke, and with her schedule, it could be anytime, she insisted on a heavy infusion of caffeine first thing. Her brain refused to function otherwise. Some days more than others.