Up in Flames (12 page)

Her romantic memories dropped back to earth. “I’m trying to,” she pointed out, “if you’d get out of the way.”

“What you’re trying to do is get yourself killed.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Hooter’s not going to kill me.” It was a reflex to deny whatever he said, but her voice lost its conviction at the end.

“Are you sure?”

No, damn it. The man had scared her, and his disdain for women was obvious.

“Or maybe you’ll settle for being raped.”

She drew in a startled gasp that turned to fury. “You’re an ass,” she hissed through clenched jaws. “I can’t believe you’d even say that to a woman.”

“I wouldn’t have to if you’d stop being naive.” His voice lashed back, sharp as a whip and stinging in its surety. “You need to take this seriously.” Tension outlined the muscles in his arms and put a threatening edge on his words. “Rape isn’t just a scare word, it’s a reality at the Moosehead. Ask your brother-in-law, the cop, if you don’t believe me. He’ll have seen the reports, or maybe written one up himself.”

She shook her head, not disbelieving but finding it hard to accept. “Barringer’s Pass was never that dangerous before.”

His laugh was harsh, and devoid of humor. “My version of it was. Christ, Sophie, they put you in an ivory tower, and let you out in the summer to frolic at some idyllic commune. I hate to burst your bubble, but that’s not the real world. This is, the one with close-minded townspeople, and Hooter, and the Moosehead. Wake up! Someone killed a girl here only a few weeks ago. He’s still out there, and you seem to be doing your best to meet him.”

Her head spun, trying to make Zane’s cruel reality mesh with her sheltered one. She wasn’t naive; she knew bad things happened. But the bad parts seemed to be all Zane ever saw, and it probably made him assume the worst. “How do you know the killer’s still around? Maybe he wasn’t even from here.”

His lip twisted with a sneer. “Right. You think it was just chance that he buried Rena’s body at my place?”

No, she knew it wasn’t. Even if she had a month to plot a murder, she couldn’t come up with a better place to bury a body. But she was surprised to hear him say it. She’d seen how people jumped to conclusions about him, but he’d never mentioned it, as if he found it too humiliating. “He wanted to divert suspicion if she was ever found,” she said quietly. “To you, because people around here would believe it without question.”

“That’s right.” The corner of his eye twitched at the forced admission. “If he was a drifter, someone who moved on to another town or another state, I doubt he’d care about who got blamed, or even know enough to set me up by burying her on my property. He’s someone local.”

“Then it stands to reason I might find other suspects.”

“You might do more than that. You might find a killer who doesn’t want to be found.” His mouth twisted with bitter humor. “This might be the only time you hear me say this, so listen closely—leave it to the police.”

His words jarred in her brain, enough to override the unease caused by his closeness. “This is the one time you shouldn’t say it! The police don’t know about Rena going to the Moosehead because you won’t tell them, so they have no other suspects. If you leave it to the police, they’ll try to pin it on you, Zane, you know they will.”

“Let them try. They won’t find any evidence because I didn’t do it.”

“But if you spent the night with her—”

He pulled his hands back abruptly, his face contorting with anger. “I’m not discussing that with you, Sophie.”

She didn’t want to talk about it, either, but there was hard science involved, facts they couldn’t escape, and he needed to consider it. She made herself say it. “If you didn’t use a condom—”

“Goddamn it, Sophie!”

“If you didn’t,” she persisted, “there could still be DNA evidence.”

She waited for the realization to sink in and turn to fear. But his expression only turned fiercer and she knew she’d pushed him too far.

9

T
he one thing
she’d never feared from Zane was physical violence, but at that moment she wouldn’t swear he wasn’t going to wring her neck.

His eyes blazed as he leaned close. “I did use one, okay? More than one. Does that help you picture it? Can you remember what it was like, or would you like more detail?”

She flushed with sudden hatred. For a moment she imagined slapping him, hitting him hard enough to make him stagger backward. The next second she realized he expected it, wanted to drive her over the edge, and she wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. Wouldn’t let him know how much the memory of leaving him still hurt. But he didn’t have to bring their past into it, to remind her that she’d once been a one-night stand, too. She stared him down, fighting the pain and anger inside her. “You’re a real bastard, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am. You should keep that in mind.”

“You make it impossible to forget. And you’re probably too arrogant to realize it, but I’m not bringing this up to reminisce. I’m trying to help you, although God knows why.”

“I never asked for your help.”

“No, you wouldn’t, you’d just hang on to your stubborn pride while they railroaded you into prison. Well, I was raised to believe in standing up to injustice, no matter what form and no matter the victim. But don’t take it personally; I help mangy stray dogs, too. That’s what comes of having a heart and a conscience, two things you wouldn’t know about.”

The words felt like bullets, fired from someplace deep inside her.
You’re a jerk with no redeeming qualities—blam! I’m better than you, but I’ll help you anyway—blam, blam!
Adrenaline rushed through her, leaving her high and breathless, charged with an energy she didn’t know how to handle.

She’d wanted to take those shots for the past ten years. Releasing them felt good, but watching them hit their target felt even better. His expression didn’t change, but his breaths came faster and the sexy bow in his top lip was flat and edged in white.

“So you have a conscience now,” he purred in her ear. His voice was smooth and low, the rumble almost sensuous, sending shivers over her scalp and down her arms. “How unfortunate. That must make it harder to dump lovers when you’re done with them.”

She knew her face flamed red, but hoped he couldn’t tell in the poor light of the parking lot. “I didn’t dump you,” she said. Although she didn’t have a better word for it.

“A matter for debate. But hardly important, since it never could have lasted.”

Anger flared again at the easy way he dismissed the feelings it had taken her years to get over. “You’re right. Anyone who thinks women are just out to use him is never going to have a relationship that lasts.”

His mouth pulled into a mocking smile. “Are you going to claim you weren’t using me? Getting rid of that awkward virginity before going off to play with the sophisticated kids at college?”

She narrowed her eyes at the crass image, wishing there was some way to deny the accusation that wouldn’t mean admitting the truth, that she’d slept with him out of a teenage infatuation she’d mistaken for love. “That’s not how it was. But I had to put my education before everything else, I told you that.”

“And it worked out well, didn’t it, Dr. Larkin? Congratulations. You got your fancy degree, and no emotional entanglements with the wrong kind of guy to hold you back.” He was too close, practically nuzzling against her ear as he spoke, sending goose bumps flying down her arms with each breathy murmur. Part of her knew he was up to something, but she didn’t know what, and wasn’t sure she cared as long as he kept up the sexy murmuring.

“Or did you lose your concentration, maybe slip into a serious romantic affair along the way? Did you ever let a man get close to you during the past ten years, Sophie? Or were you content with spiders and beetles?”

Was he actually curious? More likely rubbing in the fact that she’d missed out on a vital part of life, something she was all too keenly aware of. Her one serious boyfriend had deserted her when rumors had flown around about Maggie a couple of years ago; the powerful family harassing her sister had reached out to see that Sophie’s life was affected, too. She should have thanked them for letting her know how shallow the guy was, because truthfully, his leaving hadn’t hurt that much. Not nearly as much as when she’d left Zane.

She’d also had no deeply tender moments since, no significant others with whom she could share her successes. Did Zane know that? Was she so lacking in emotional skills that he could tell she’d cut herself off from any opportunity for romance? God, was she so romantically deprived that it showed?

“No broken hearts bobbing in your wake, Dr. Larkin? No crushed dreams? Wistful longings for a love that didn’t last?”

No, none. She clamped her mouth shut over the admission. It was too embarrassing to admit, although he probably knew her silence was agreement. He nipped teasingly at her earlobe, and she shuddered, unable to avoid the erotic memories that slammed into her, obscuring any thoughts of meaningless boyfriends from college. He stirred those memories too easily, making the years disappear. Memories of Zane laying her down on the sleeping bag as the fire snapped and flared nearby, sending sparks dancing toward the stars above them. Memories of Zane whispering in her ear as his hands explored her body tenderly, teaching her new pleasures. Of Zane breaking every barrier between them in one amazing night.

“Was it worth it, Sophie?” His words murmured against her hair, warm and shivery, as his lips brushed across her forehead and nuzzled against the other side of her head. “No distractions and no other feelings to consider—that’s what you wanted, isn’t it? And you accomplished your goal, like you always have. So tell me, Sophie, does your Ph.D. keep you warm at night?”

His mouth brushed over her cheek and his tongue touched her lower lip in a warm, wet swipe that sent an electric jolt through her, nearly collapsing her knees. Lifting his mouth back beside her ear, he whispered, “Or do you miss the feel of skin against skin?”

She sucked in a shaky breath. It wasn’t skin against skin tonight—their clothes were too obviously in the way as he pressed his chest into hers, rubbing lightly. The thin layers of material only inflamed the memory of what it had been like to lie against him with nothing to dull the sensation of his hot skin teasing her aching breasts.

She might have sagged against the Jeep and slid to the ground at his feet if not for the press of his body against hers and his forearms flattened against the window on either side of her head. She hadn’t been this close to him in ten years, and the sensations overwhelmed her—his scent, the soft brush of his hair on her cheek, the rich seduction of his voice in her ear. The voice of the devil, smooth as silk and dark with desire. Toying with her. She knew it, yet couldn’t find the will to push herself away, to make him stop.

Why should she? It wasn’t like he was a bad person, and he even seemed to care about her safety. It wasn’t enough to base a relationship on, but it was enough to justify indulging her raging need for him. She stood perfectly still while her body quivered and her heart nearly pounded out of her chest, silently begging for his lips to find hers.

If it was a game to him, he wasn’t immune to its effects. His arousal was unmistakable against her abdomen, and he did nothing to hide it, rocking his pelvis into hers. She closed her eyes against the slow torture, concentrating on his mouth skimming lightly along her jaw, nearly whimpering with need as he nipped softly at her chin.

He pulled away and she stood still, quivering inside, too afraid to open her eyes and find contempt in his face. The nighttime breeze curled between them, and she thought he’d decided to end it, probably have a good laugh at her pathetic inability to tell him no. But the next instant his mouth closed over hers in an all-consuming rush of heat, and she melted, opening to him with a moan.

It wasn’t the loving touch she remembered from ten years ago. And he wasn’t gentle.

Neither was she. She responded with a desperation equal to his, surprised by the realization that struck like lightning—she’d wanted this since the moment they’d met at Zoe’s reception.
Needed
it, with an urgency that scared her. She burned every place his body touched hers, from her legs where he shoved his knee between them, to the back of her head where his hands dove into her hair. And every point in between. Especially where his hips pushed against hers, hard and insistent, tempting her with the hot ridge that angled upward against her stomach.

It was nothing more than physical need, no emotion attached. It was perfect, much safer this way. She took everything he offered with a greed she didn’t know she had, wrapping her arms around his neck and digging her fingernails into his back in a desperate desire to bring him closer. Skin to skin, exactly as he’d taunted. The image burned in her mind, yearning to become real.

Why not? They could take this indoors, carry it to a satisfying conclusion in her bed. Get it out of their systems, use each other, then go back to their comfortable state of aversion. Her body was rapidly reaching the point of no return, and his must be, too. He wouldn’t turn her down at this point—what man would, with a heartbeat pounding beneath his ribs like a jackhammer and an erection straining to get free?

Before she could suggest it, his hands reached for the front of her jeans, fumbling with the button. His enthusiasm was encouraging, even if getting started in the parking lot was pushing it. She groaned an approving “Mmm” against his mouth as the button gave and his fingers brushed the skin below her stomach. Heat streaked along the same path, settling at the juncture of her thighs and dampening her panties.

God, she wanted him! Yearned to have him. She could scarcely breathe with the need that gripped her, gathering with a wild impatience between her legs. Their coming together promised to be explosive, even better than ten years ago. She knew it from the fierce tug on her zipper and the eager shudder that seized her when his hands shoved the jeans farther down her hips.

He was moving too fast! Her thoughts flew to their position between her Jeep and his truck, quickly deciding it was sheltered enough that no one could witness his haste to be inside her. But it was past time to take this inside. She took her lips from his to suggest it, but he muffled her first word, catching her mouth in a forceful kiss that pressed her head against the Jeep and sent her mind spinning. In the same moment, his hand sank between them, inside the jeans that gaped open, riding low on her hips.

Her mind went blank, tumbling on a tidal wave of desire. Some part of her wanted to stop him, but it was drowned in the urgent tsunami that swept through her. His fingers found wetness, spreading it with shocking effect, shorting every command from her brain but the involuntary need to push into his hand.

Without thought, she pumped her hips forward, then gasped into his mouth as his fingers slid inside her, deep, curving, finding their own rhythm. With a suddenness that shocked her, she came apart, her hips plastered to the side of the Jeep to keep from falling, as his fingers pushed her ruthlessly over the edge on an endless free fall. Her lips stopped moving as she choked out a soft, “Ohh!” and went limp in his arms.

His hand slipped away. With one rough movement he jerked her jeans up so the open fly revealed nothing but the bare skin of her abdomen, her panties lost somewhere below. He stepped back, breathing hard.

She focused her eyes with effort, and staggered as she pushed away from the Jeep, forcing her shaking legs to hold her weight. “Zane,” she began, shaking her head and panting out a half laugh. She wasn’t sure what to say.
Thanks? I could have waited ten minutes? Let’s take round two inside?

He saved her the trouble. “Sorry,” he said, nearly as breathless as she was.

It was the last thing a girl expected to hear after a mind-blowing orgasm. Her eyebrows puckered as she tried to make sense of it, and she thought she might even be the only female who’d ever heard it. It felt like one of those moments that needed a good cartoon shake of the head, one that rattled the brain back to reality. She could only think of one response. “Why?”

“Because I can’t do this.” His voice was gruff, his chest rising and falling as if he’d run a race. It made what he said all the more confusing. “The game’s over. Time to stop playing on the wrong side of the tracks, Dr. Larkin.”

“You think I was playing?” It trivialized what they’d done, as if letting a guy stick his hands down her pants was her idea of an amusing way to end an evening.

“We both were, and this is as far as it goes. I made you lower yourself to do grunt work, and you got to use me for a little sexual thrill. We can call it even.”

She didn’t understand what was going on, but a theme was becoming clear. “Lower myself? Wrong side of the tracks? What’s your problem with my background? Since when do social strata matter to you, and when did I get labeled?”

He laughed harshly. “Sophie, you were labeled when I met you, by that fancy private school and by your plans. And it didn’t matter to me, until I realized that was all that mattered to you.”

“You’re crazy!” The denial was automatic, even as she realized the issue was not that simple. They’d both been outsiders in B-Pass. It gave her and Zane something in common, drawing them together long enough for them to discover other shared values and beliefs. It had also been the thing that kept them apart.

She wanted to talk to him about it, but it seemed he was done talking. She watched openmouthed as he climbed into his truck, slamming the door on her startled cry of “Wait!” He started it and drove off, leaving her staring at his taillights.

She swore forcefully, frustrated that he would bring up a problem and then not talk about it. How typically male.

She shouldn’t care. After all, he was the one leaving with a raging hard-on, while exquisite aftershocks still fired between her thighs. If he wanted to end it there, that was his problem.

But it didn’t make her feel any better. Furious, she turned and kicked her tire. For someone who was supposed to have used him for her own pleasure, it felt a lot like she was the one who had been used.