Playing With Fire (14 page)

"Here.” He stood and hauled her upright with an urgency contradicting his earlier patience. “I'll help you."

The next instant, she was in his arms, her feet dangling.

Sensing what he wanted, she locked her legs around his waist. He hoisted her higher and positioned her over his erection, found his mark, and drove home. Lindsay gasped as he filled her, clutched his neck as he moved in and out.

A missing piece of her heart fell into place, making her whole. “I love you."

Matt stopped cold. Underneath her hands, his muscles contracted into rigid bands of steel.

Oh, damn.
She hadn't intended to tell him. The words spilled out in a flood of emotion.

A tiny part of her died when he pulled out and set her down. Why had she told him she loved him? Mahina was wrong. Matt didn't love her back, and Lindsay's impulsive declaration scared him. Now he'd leave. She'd spend the night and the next day in misery and seeing him at work would be unbearable.

Stupid, stupid, stupid
.

"I'm sorry,” she said, pressing her knuckles into her forehead. “That was really—"

"I love you, too,” he said as if he half-believed it. Then again, more emphatically, “I do. I love you."

"Really?” For once in her life, the tomboy in Lindsay gave willing way to clichéd feminine reaction. With a cry of delight, she threw herself at him.

"Hey. Take it easy.” He caught her, stumbling backwards. “Where's your bedroom?"

"This way,” she answered, disengaging herself. Suddenly, she drew up. “Wait a minute. If you love me, then why did you ... you know ... stop?"

"Condoms."

"What?"

"We need condoms,” he said, dragging her with him to the bedroom. “Lots of them."

An hour later, they'd used two. Matt lay on his back in Lindsay's bed, hands clasped behind his head and eyelids drooping. After that last round of lovemaking, he'd require twelve consecutive hours of rest to regain his strength. The adjoining door opened, and Lindsay emerged, the light from the bathroom bathing her in a golden glow. He took one look at her and sat bolt upright in bed, realizing he'd overestimated his recuperative abilities by eleven hours and fifty-nine minutes.

She walked slowly toward him, wearing a shy smile and a wispy black nightgown that revealed as much cleavage as it did leg.

Matt stared, too dazzled to speak.

"What do you think?” she asked, her cheeks tinged pink with shyness, or possibly embarrassment.

Roused from his stupor, he threw back the sheet and indicated for her to join him in bed. “No matter what I say, how much I beg, don't tell me where or when you bought that."

"Why?” As she moved, the nightgown swirled and shifted like a cloud tossed by the wind.

"Because I'll go crazy with jealousy,” he answered, remembering the provocative outfit she'd worn the night she snuck in his house to seduce Joey. Thank God she'd found him instead of his roommate.

"A little jealousy isn't so bad.” She rested one knee on the bed. The mattress dipped slightly beneath her weight. “It keeps you from losing interest.” Swinging her other leg over him, she straddled his thighs. The nightgown drifted down around her in airy folds.

"Fat chance of that happening.” He encircled her waist with his hands, his thumbs kneading the soft flesh of her belly through the filmy material. She sighed contentedly, her hips undulating in rhythm to his strokes.

It was hard for Matt to believe that just yesterday, this beautiful, sensual woman had been covered in grime, toting half her body weight in equipment, and fighting a fire with every ounce of courage she possessed.

The endless paradox of her personality fascinated him, and he couldn't imagine ever tiring of her as she'd suggested.

He leaned up and placed a kiss at the base of her neck, directly above her breastbone. “Have dinner with me tomorrow night."

"At your place?"

"Are you kidding? You've eaten my cooking at the station and we both know how awful that tastes."

Lindsay laughed when Matt grabbed his throat and made a face like he was choking. “It's not that bad."

He lay back and attempted to pull her with him. “There's a new Cajun restaurant I've been wanting to try.
The Black Kettle
.” Ever heard of it?"

She resisted the pull of his arms, the lively twinkle in her eyes dimming. “A date?"

"You know. That social activity couples engage in. They have dinner together. See a movie. Go to car shows."

"Car shows?” She gave him a sardonic look.

"What? You don't like car shows? This complicates things considerably."

"That's just it, Matt. Dating does complicate things."

"I disagree.” He took her hands in his and brought them to his lips, kissing the knuckles. “I think it simplifies things."

"Work,” she withdrew her hands, “is going to be awkward."

"It doesn't have to be. There are no rules stating we can't date. And trust me, we will date. Even if you don't like car shows."

She bent forward and tenderly kissed his lips. “I don't care where we go as long as I'm with you."

"Am I wrong or do I hear a ‘but’ on the end of that sentence?"

"
But
I think we should refrain from going public just yet.” She smiled, her eyes pleading with him to understand. “For now anyway."

"Someone's bound to figure it out eventually."

"Not if we're careful."

Matt had a sudden flash of insight. “Is it Dennis?” Her refusal to meet his gaze confirmed he'd hit the nail on the head. “We can handle him. Don't let that worry you."

She slid off him, reclining on the bed beside him. “It's not just Dennis. It's the entire department. Fire Administration is like a small town. Rumors spread quickly and half of them are blown out of proportion. I have enough trouble fitting in without being fodder for the gossip mill."

He put an arm around her, using physical closeness to counteract the emotional barrier she was erecting. “We have nothing to be ashamed of."

"I said that wrong. I didn't mean to imply we do. It's just that—” She started to speak again, then stopped and bit her lower lip.

"Go on.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze.

She took a deep breath, held it, then said, “I'm sick and tired of all the jokes made at my expense."

"Is it really that bad?"

"The guys at work like you, Matt. You're one of them, their pal, their buddy.” She turned over and stared at the ceiling. “I'm not.” Once started, she couldn't seem to stop. “You can't imagine what it's like to be picked on, day in and day out. To spend each minute of each shift under a microscope, your every move being watched and evaluated. You pray you won't screw up. And if you do, the news, grossly exaggerated, of course, will be telegraphed to everyone in the department within an hour."

"I didn't realize.” He had, but not the extent of her hurt and frustration.

"Tell me honestly. How many people at work congratulated you on your test scores?"

Matt thought momentarily and shrugged. “A couple dozen or so. Maybe more."

"Guess how many people congratulated me?"

"The same?"

"Two. Emilio and Rebecca,” she said, speaking of the woman captain who shared command of the station with Emilio.

It was with more than a little shame Matt counted himself among those failing to give Lindsay her due. “I'm sorry."

"As of two days ago, you outrank me. If rumors spread that we're dating...” She firmed her mouth into a thin line. “I refuse to have it said I used sex to advance my position."

"That won't happen!” The idea that someone might accuse Lindsay of such a thing infuriated him.

She turned sideways and stroked his jaw, her eyes sad. “You can't stop it. People will say and think what they want."

She had a point. And while he didn't entirely agree with her, he'd respect her wishes. Their being together was what mattered the most. One or the other of them would likely be transferred soon. True, they'd be assigned to different stations. But that one fact alone might make their personal relationship more readily tolerated by their coworkers. Especially after Lindsay's promotion came through. For her sake, he'd remain silent. He had the feeling she was worth it.

"All right,” he said. “We'll do this your way."

Relief shone on her face.

"But I won't lie to you. I'm a little disappointed.” He hauled her on top of him, cupping her buttocks with both hands. “You're ruining my plans."

She dropped playful kisses on his chin and neck. “What plans are those?"

"Bragging rights. A guy likes to show off when he's going out with the hottest chick in the department."

"Me? Hot?” She squinted at him. “I think you need glasses."

In one easy move, he flipped her over and pinned her under him. Her nightgown bunched up around her waist. Only a thin, transparent panty covered her. Hardly enough to deter him. “When will you get it through that thick head of yours? You're an incredibly sexy woman, Lindsay.” He positioned himself between her legs. She responded by rocking her hips. “My woman."

"I like the sound of that."

A sudden chirping from the vicinity of the floor interrupted them. His cell phone. “I don't like the sound of that.” He rolled off her and sat up.

Lindsay reached for the lamp on the nightstand and flicked the switch on. “Is that yours or mine?"

"Mine, I think."

He bent over and rummaged through the array of clothes strewn haphazardly on the floor. Finally locating his tee-shirt, he removed his cell phone from the front pocket. It chirped again. He checked the caller ID, recognizing his father's number. Immediately, his gut twisted in on itself.

"Everything okay?” Lindsay snuggled against him and rubbed his shoulder.

"Yeah.” The phone chirped a third time. Half of him was tempted to let the call go through to his voice mail. Not answering, however, would only postpone the inevitable. “I should probably take this.” He rallied his nerve and pressed the green button on the lighted keypad. “Hi, Dad."

"It's about time."

"I'm fine, thanks. How are you?"

"Don't be smart with me. Where are you? I called the house and got your answering machine."

"I'm in bed.” Matt didn't elaborate whose bed, or what they were doing.

"At this hour? It's only nine thirty. Are you sick?"

Everett Callahan didn't keep regular office hours like most people. He put in twelve to fourteen hour workdays, six days a week like clockwork. On Sundays, he took care of whatever items Matt's mother had on her “honey-do” list. Holidays and vacations were for the lazy and unambitious, hobbies an unnecessary distraction. He'd been on a business trip the day Matt was born and missed his next ten birthdays for one work related reason or another.

No wonder the man suffered chronic chest pains. Not from stress, but because his heart had hardened years ago into a cold lump of stone.

"I was sleeping,” Matt answered his father's question. “I just came off a twenty-four hour shift."

"Which brings me to the reason I called."

"My schedule?"

"Your work."

Matt groaned. The kinks in his gut tightened. He should never have phoned his mother that morning and told her about his test scores. But she'd been so tickled with the news, and he wanted at least one of his parents to be proud of him.

"I hear you've been promoted."

"It's not official yet.” Matt didn't realize he was strumming his fingers on his thigh until Lindsay wrapped her hand around his.

"Son, when will you give up this foolishness and get a real job?"

Matt had heard this particular lecture so often, he could recite it along with his father word for word. He gave his standard reply. “I like being a firefighter."

"You're smart, and you're good with people. It's a shame you're not living up to your full potential."

"You mean it's a shame I'm not upholding the family tradition by going into sales."

"Look how well your sister's doing. She just bought a new townhouse with her last commission check."

"Money isn't everything.” It wasn't to Matt, but it was to his father.

"What kind of raise comes with your promotion?"

"I don't know."

"That small, huh?"

"I didn't ask because it's irrelevant.” He hated that his father always put him on the defensive.

"You should find out first before accepting the job. Negotiate a better deal if the money isn't what you want."

"The city establishes salaries based on position and length of employment. I can't negotiate."

"Then maybe you should consider another line of work. One where your income is a direct reflection of your performance and not some bureaucrat's notion of a budget."

"That's now how the system works.”
Why bother
? Matt asked himself. But still, he tried. “The city determines—"

"I've got to run. There's another call coming in. Drive down next weekend. We'll have lunch. I want to talk to you some more about this promotion."

If Everett Callahan said goodbye, it was muffled by the click of his phone disconnecting.

"Goodbye to you, too.” Matt set his own phone on the nightstand, then scrubbed his face with his hands. Resentment, old as his earliest memory, consumed him.

"Your dad must be feeling better.” Lindsay nuzzled his neck. “No more chest pains?"

Her touch acted like a catharsis, soothing his anger.

"Apparently not. He's as ornery as ever.” Matt lay down on the bed, taking Lindsay with him. This time, she didn't resist. They cuddled content to simply hold each other.

She skimmed her fingers over his chest. “Don't let whatever your father said bother you. And it's none of my business,” she quickly added when he started to explain.

"I wish it were that easy."

"Anything I can do to help?"

"There is. Tell me why gaining the respect of a father who doesn't care is so important to me."

"I will. As soon as I figure it out myself."

"Your dad is great. Really supportive. I met him at graduation."

"My stepdad. I haven't seen my real dad in years. I doubt he knows what I do for a living, much less is impressed by it. But that doesn't stop me from trying to please him."