Up In Flames (10 page)

"Right!” She vaulted off the couch as if she had her own fire to attend. Shane hoped she was merely trying to appear agreeable. Hopefully she wasn't so eager to end their evening.

"Well,” she continued, “thanks for keeping me company."

"It was fun,” he said, smiling. “I'm sorry about what happened at the pub."

"The pub? Oh, that! Funny. I forgot.” A blush highlighted her cheeks. “Say, are you free a couple of nights from now? I'll even let you pick the next movie."

It would be so easy to let go, he thought, to seize the opportunity at a relationship with Jules. He wanted it, wanted her. There was no denying it. He would have given anything to be able to touch her hair, her face, to let his lips graze hers.

If only he could forget the pain when he and Alana began to drift apart. And then, the more all-consuming terror of driving back to the charred remains of their home, knowing she'd perished in the blaze. Could he really give himself up to another again, especially knowing it could all end in tears? He promised himself he'd never be so vulnerable again.

"I don't know, Jules. I'll have to get back to you.” He knew his words must make him sound distant, even slightly cold.

Something in her eyes retreated like an injured animal, despite the grin she kept plastered on her face. She had gone out on a limb, and he'd left her dangling.

"Of course.” There was a forced casual tone in her voice. “No problem. You have a good night."

Before he could take his words back, make her understand, she disappeared upstairs. He heard her bedroom door close. After that, all was silent except for the sound of the rain on the roof.

Gary was getting wetter by the second, but he didn't care. What was a soaking-wet ass compared to the chance to watch Juliet at home? And he had the best seat in the house. From his position, crouched in the garden outside the den window, he could see everything going on inside. He just couldn't tell what they were saying.

He pulled the hood of his windbreaker further down over his brow, wishing he could read lips. Juliet and the fire captain both seemed awkward towards the end of their conversation. Very awkward.

Good.

He didn't like that man. Didn't like his perfect face and perfect muscles. Didn't like the way he looked at her. Didn't like him being in that house with her. It should have been
him
inside that house, cozying up to her on the couch. But Shane Gaskill had messed things up for him.

One way or another, he'd get him away from her.

The seed of an idea implanted itself in his mind then. An idea which seemed so simple, yet brilliant. He wondered why he'd never thought of it before.

He watched as they separated for the night, thankful he didn't have to watch Shane Gaskill putting his stupid paws on his girl. Thus appeased, and eager to put his plan to work, he crept away from the window and headed home to dry his socks.

At one a.m., Jules was still wide awake. In fact, she hadn't been able to sleep at all since her rejection from Shane. It was smarting much more than she would have ever expected.

Since he'd moved into her home, he'd gone out of his way time and again to prove how different he was from Kevin and his ilk. However, once push came to shove, he was no better.

How did she mistake the signs? All his kind words and those fiery glances. His protective impulses and ... those touches. What were they, just a ploy to get on her good side? Did they really mean nothing to him?

Her head was spinning. Jules had been fighting her attraction to Shane since she'd first seen him, and had thought he was going through the same thing. The way he looked at her, it fired her up with a passion she couldn't ignore. Tonight she'd thought she'd be brave enough to take a chance on love, or even lust, again, but it had all exploded in her face.

"How could I be so stupid?” It was bad enough being gullible in Kevin's case, but she had really come to believe she could trust Shane. Then again, maybe he was just not interested and was trying to spare her feelings. Either way, the bad taste in her mouth was proving to be palpable and lingering.

At that moment, a cold drop of water came out of the blackness to plop on her forehead. For a moment, she just lay there, thinking fatigue had made her delusional.

When a second, larger drop fell, she jumped out of bed and flicked on the lights. “What the...?"

She stood barefoot by the side of the bed, rubbing her eyes. Bleary-eyed as she was, she stared at the ceiling, waiting for another drop to materialize. When several drops of rainwater leaked onto her bed at once, she rubbed her eyes again.

Jules then felt wetness next to her feet and realized the leak had taken hold in a few spots in the room. The rain was still pouring outside, and she realized she'd be in for a moist night if she didn't do something quickly.

Without thinking, she ran down to Shane's room. There was a line of light coming from under his door. He was awake, too. She wondered if their encounter had troubled him as well.

It was only after she rapped on the door, that she remembered she only had on a pale camisole and silk pajama shorts. She crossed her arms across her chest and waited for him to answer. When he opened the door, topless in his pajama pants, Jules did her best to look him in the eye. “I'm leaking ... I mean, there's a leak in my room. I was wondering..."

"Show me the way.” He suppressed a grin.

As Shane followed her up the stairs to the scene of the deluge, Jules felt his eyes assessing her in her skivvies. Damn. Why didn't she throw her robe on?

She moved as quickly as she could up the stairs, consoling herself with the assumption he probably didn't care what she looked like anyway.

So why did she feel his eyes burning into her booty? And why did she like it so much?

She burst into the room on the top floor and searched out the wet spots. It wasn't hard to do. The circle of water on the floor was now joined by several others and her quilt was definitely damp. “See? It's everywhere now. I've never fixed a leak before, never mind forty-seven of them."

Shane walked about the room, assessing the damage and trying not to step in too many burgeoning puddles. “When was the last time the roof was replaced?"

"Oh God, I have no clue.” Jules ran a hand through her hair in exasperation. “My parents didn't do much to this place in the last few years. I don't suppose some simple patching up would do it?"

"I won't know until tomorrow. Once the rain stops, I can check out the roof for you. In the meantime, you might want to tell me where you keep the buckets."

She groaned. “Please don't tell me I need a new roof."

"It's a distinct possibility."

They made their way quickly to the basement and Jules found some old pails which looked just as weathered as the farmhouse. They raced back upstairs and placed them strategically about the bedroom. “I hope these old things hold water. They're probably full of holes themselves."

As he laid the buckets, Shane glanced about the room, quietly chuckling at the sight of her clothes strewn on a corner chair. “So, this is your room, huh? It's not how I pictured it. So frilly and pink."

"Who said you could picture it?” She was busy hoisting some framed photos into a box, but stopped to glare at him. “You have a problem with it?"

"No, it's just so ... girly.” He picked up a worn teddy bear and tossed it to her.

"Well, I was a girl at one time.” She hugged the bear to her chest, glad for the extra coverage. “When I moved out, my parents never changed anything. It's fine for now, but one of these days I'll redecorate.” She looked about, making sure she'd moved any of the important things that were in the path of the leaks. She reached into a closet and yanked out a couple of blankets, then turned to Shane. “Thanks for your help. You should go back to sleep."

"I wasn't really sleeping,” he murmured, confirming her suspicions.

"Anyway,” she ignored his comment, “I'm just gonna hit the couch downstairs. I'll try not to bother you."

"What about the other bedrooms?"

"I haven't cleaned them out yet.” She expelled a huge puff of air in exasperation. “It wasn't really a priority when I moved back. Didn't think I'd need the other bedrooms right away."

"You can't sleep on the couch, Jules. Use my room."

She paused for a moment, lost in the thought of being able to lie in the bed which was probably still warm with his body heat, molded to his sin-provoking shape. “No. I'll be fine. I've used that old couch a million times. I'm used to all its lumps, and it's used to mine.” She offered a tight grin. “Thank-you, Shane."

Before she turned, head held high, she glimpsed him sneaking a peak at her waist and hips, clearly assessing her “lumps.” He walked with her downstairs, a frown on his face.

Jules was trying to keep things light, was trying to joke around with him, but she didn't really feel like it. His earlier rebuff was still fresh in her mind, stinging with a force she hadn't expected. Instead, she made her way back to the couch they had shared mere hours ago, and tossed her blankets into a heap.

Shane just watched her, seemingly at a loss for what to say or do, and still frowning. When she sat down on the couch and looked up at him, he seemed to snap out of it. “Right. I've leave you to it, I guess. I'm, uh, sorry about the roof. I'll see if I can have a look before I head to work.” He grinned a lopsided, awkward excuse for a grin. “I'm sure it'll be fine."

She looked away, feeling herself on the brink of tears, and hating it. What was wrong with her? What on earth had gotten into her that she'd be crying over this? “Thanks again. Good-night.” She turned her back and curled her legs up into the worn couch, praying he'd leave.

He did, but Jules felt his eyes on her as he walked the three steps to his suite's door. It took a few seconds before his door actually closed, and as it did, she still felt the burning sensation of being watched.

Jules lay curled up under her blanket, eyes wide open. She was waiting for the telltale sounds of Shane getting into his own bed, but they didn't come. Instead, she heard him pacing the old oak floors in his room.

What was the man doing? Was she going to have to listen to him pacing all night?

After about five minutes, the pacing stopped, and Jules allowed her eyes to close for a moment. Just as her body started to relax a fraction, she heard Shane's door open and his footsteps coming her way. Not knowing what else to do, she shut her eyes tight, and pretended to be asleep.

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"Jules?” he whispered. He sat on the edge of the couch right next to her, not wanting to startle her out of her sleep, but also trying to not lose his nerve. He could feel the heat of her body through the blanket against his hip, and dared to rest a hand on her flannel-encased arm.

The arm which was so bare a moment ago.

When she'd shown up at his door wearing nothing but those skimpy PJ's, leaving so little to the imagination, he'd found it hard to control himself. His head was still swimming with the image of her breasts, her braless breasts, taunting him from inside that flimsy excuse for a shirt.

What unnerved him even more was the hurt expression on her face a moment ago. She'd looked close to tears and it was eating away at him. He couldn't just go to bed with how things had ended between them. “Jules. Are you asleep?"

In the darkness, he felt her body turn over. “Not really."

"Do you mind if I turn on the light for a sec?"

"No."

Shane reached for the lamp on the little side table, and then turned back to a squinting Jules. God, she was beautiful. Even with the covers pulled up to her shoulders, she was still so delectable he could eat her up. Her short hair was mussed, as if someone had run hands through it, as if someone had been making love to her. Her face was so pretty when scrubbed clean of make-up, although he didn't like seeing it so sad. His eyes dropped to her dainty neck, noting how it tapered down to gorgeous, soft-looking shoulders. The kinds of shoulders which invited his hands, making him want to slide them under her camisole straps. He shifted how he was perched on the couch, very aware of a persistent, hungry erection in his pajama pants.

"Is everything okay?” she asked when he didn't say anything.

He took a deep breath. “Yes. No. I don't like how our conversation ended after the movie. I feel like we keep misunderstanding each other."

She sat up, hugging the blanket across her chest. “Shane, you don't have to explain yourself to me. I'm a big girl. I can handle a little rejection.” Even as she said it, she looked away, as if the opposite were true.

"No, you don't understand. I wasn't rejecting you. It's me...” he struggled for the words. “What I'm trying to say is..."

She looked into his eyes, her own hazel ones bright with withheld emotion, as if daring him to finish. “What are you trying to say, Shane?"

He couldn't say anything. All he could seem to concentrate on were her pink lips, and how much he wanted to kiss them. Her lips were slightly open, and he watched as her tongue darted out to lick them, lingering for a second at the corner of her mouth. It wasn't meant to be an enticing gesture, but he felt his pulse speed up nonetheless.

Just one little kiss wouldn't hurt, would it? He wet his own lips in a hungry response.

Just one.

Shane leaned in, noting how Jules held her breath. She wanted it, too. He brought his hands to her face, feeling the exquisite softness of her cheeks, rubbing them with his thumbs. He moved his face close to hers, touching his nose to hers, smiling as her light flowery perfume assaulted his senses. Only then did he move his lips against hers, grazing them, feeling for any reluctance on her part.

There was none.

With his lips on hers, Jules let a small sigh escape. It was the sweetest sound, a soft release, and it fired him up with intense desire. He leaned her back down onto the couch, and allowed himself to really kiss her. Their lips melted into each other, slipping, sliding, caressing. Then, Shane ran the tip of his eager tongue along the outline of her lips, tasting her, lapping at the corner where he'd seen her tongue. He let his hands move down her neck, over those shoulders he'd been dying to caress. Pulling down her blanket, he moved his hands down to her waist. Feeling her body pressing against his, he kissed her deeply, his stubble scraping her face while his tongue plundered her mouth.