White Heat (18 page)

“Shh.” She put her fingers to his lips. “I don’t know that man you describe. I know the man I’m standing in front of, the man who is going to help me read better English, and then who is going to drive me wild for the rest of the night, because we are good together. Now.” She let out a breath, smiled. “Any questions?”

He removed her fingers from his mouth and smiled back, his chest loosening with relief, with arousal, with other things too, things that suddenly no longer scared him. “No questions.”

Her smile caught his breath, his heart. “Good.”

Too keyed up to go to sleep, Griffin left Brody outside with Nina and went in the inn. He got halfway to the kitchen when he realized there was one thing he wanted more than food.

Lyndie.

He walked back down the hallway, but no Lyndie in the front room, the courtyard, anywhere. He checked her room, which was empty of all fiery-haired women.

And also empty of wild kittens.

What had she done with Lucifer? And how, after the day they’d had, did she have the energy to be anywhere but in that bed?

Exiting again, out the back door of the inn this time, he heard her voice in the darkness and moved forward. He found her sitting by the creek, Lucifer in her lap batting at her chin with his paw.

“Cool it,” she said to the cat, who did his best to climb up her body. “Did you really think I wasn’t coming back for you?” She let out a soft laugh over the sound of the rushing water. “Would have served you right, you obnoxious little fleabag.”

“Mew.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She stroked the little back and Lucifer arched with pleasure. “Look, I’m not going to ditch you or anything, but honestly, I’m not a good bet.”

Surprised, Griffin stopped short. She thought she wasn’t a good bet? She, with the strength and bravery of ten men? How could she believe that?

Still not seeing Griffin, she plopped to her back on the creek bank, lifting the kitten up to look into his face. “Look, cat…I’m not that good for you. I’m demanding and pushy, and quite honestly, I’m not even that nice. Seriously,” she whispered, “you ought to be running for your life.”

The kitten didn’t appear concerned, and Lyndie let out a soft laugh that broke Griffin’s heart, bringing Lucifer down to her chest. “Why aren’t you running?” she asked, rubbing her cheek to his.

Griffin ached to go to her, to prove her wrong about being a bad bet.

But he wasn’t a good bet either.

So he steeled himself, not an easy task, and turned and walked away.

A
fter getting back from the fire, Tom took a quick shower at his place, then walked his own well-worn path to the inn, entering in the back door, where he stepped directly into the kitchen. As he knew she would be, Rosa was there, directing several of the local women on how to set everything out; “everything” being more dishes and platters of food than Tom could count.

“You nearly ready for all of us?” he asked, smiling when she whipped around, looking unusually harassed.

“Did you tell everyone?” she demanded.

“How come you always answer my question with one of your own?” He touched her on the very tip of her worried nose. “Everyone’ll be here, soon as they clean up.” He bent to pet Tallulah, who was sitting on his foot, waiting, quivering, for his attention. “For an impromptu fiesta, they’ll come out of the woodwork.”

“And Nina—”

“She’ll be here, too. Her obsession to get to the States has been superseded by her obsession with Griffin’s brother. She won’t miss a chance to dance with him.” Tom wasn’t naive; he knew his daughter had an abundantly healthy appetite for men. He just didn’t like to think about it, especially because this week she was hungry for the jobless, directionless American, damn it.

“Where’s Lyndie?” Rosa asked.

“The girl worked her fingers to the bone today, she has to be exhausted. She can’t have gone far.”

Rosa’s mouth pulled into a concerned frown.

“Don’t fret, you know our girl. She’ll be drawn in by the scent of food.”

That got a smile out of the woman who’d probably been cooking all day. “She deserves a little fiesta,
si
?”

“Impromptu or otherwise,” Tom agreed. “You do understand this is going to piss her off when she figures it out. She hates being the center of attention.”

“She does so much for us. She needs a life, and since she won’t get it for herself, we are going to help her. If she is as exhausted as you say, she won’t question all the fuss anyway.”

“She’s exhausted, yes, but smart as hell—” He broke off when Rosa took his face in her work-roughened hands. “What?”

“You know this fiesta could just as easily be for you, Tom Farrell.”

A little stunned at her touch, more than a little stunned at the way he wanted to hold her hands against him so that she could never stop, he blinked at her. “Rosa…”

“Si?”

“Don’t be alarmed, but…”

“You want to kiss me?”

Unable to speak, he just stared at her.

“Oh, Tom.” She let out a soft smile. “How come in all this time, you’ve never thought of this before?”

He blinked again, slow as an owl. “Thought of what, exactly?”

Her fingers slid into his long hair, restrained by a length of string. Her body shifted just a little bit closer.

His reacted.

“That,”
she whispered. Her mouth curved sensuously as she pulled away. “Think of it sometime, will you? I’m tired of waiting.” Smiling into his surprised face, she turned him around and shooed him out of her kitchen.

Twenty minutes later, Lyndie stood up from the bank of the creek and picked up the cat. “I’m hungry.” And led by her growling stomach, she walked inside the inn. She entered the side door, which led her to the courtyard, then stopped in shocked surprise at the crowd there among the flowers and stone benches. Colorful streamers zigzagged overhead, and there was food everywhere, while Mexican fiesta music blared, courtesy of four men in the corner and their makeshift band.

She recognized them as men she’d seen that day at the fire; she recognized lots of others, too, and was immediately swallowed up by people who wanted to thank her, hug her, talk to her. “What is this?” she asked Rosa, who handed her a drink in exchange for Lucifer. “A celebration for the fire being contained?”

Rosa smiled and kissed Lyndie’s right cheek, and then the left. “It’s a celebration of life,
querida.
”

Over Rosa’s shoulder, Lyndie caught sight of an equally baffled-looking Griffin entering the courtyard. Tom handed him a drink as well, and slapped him on the back.

Griffin took the bottle of beer and smiled at Tom, and then his gaze scanned the room, stopping only when it collided with hers.

Time seemed to stop, and so did her heart. And then he was working his way through the people, still holding her gaze prisoner, stopping right before her. “You do all this?” he asked her.

“Ha! My
querida
here does not know how to boil water.” Rosa hugged him. “This is
my
thank you.”

“But…the fire isn’t out yet.”

“It will be. Everyone say how hard you work. Without Lyndie’s help, without your help, God only knows what would happen to San Puebla. To our casas. To Lyndie’s inn.”

Griffin looked at Lyndie. “Your inn?”

Damn it. “Well—”

“She owns this place,” Rosa said proudly. “She bought it when the previous owner went to prison three years ago. That man, my boss…horrible, very mean. One day Lyndie came here with a doctor for the kids, and she stay. She like. She save me, she save my job. Sweet,
si
?”

“Very sweet.” Griffin’s eyes never left Lyndie’s. “I thought you said your only home was the sky. That you liked being as free as a bird, no ties, no strings attached.”

Rosa beamed. “Oh, no. Lyndie has many ties.” She leaned in close, talking in a conspirator’s whisper. “She just doesn’t like to admit it.”

“Hello,” Lyndie said, waving. “I’m in the room.”

Rosa merely hugged her. “Such a generous boss, you let me do whatever I want.”

“Let you—” Lyndie shook her head, and had to laugh. “Like anyone ‘lets’ you do anything you don’t want to do.”

Rosa just smiled.

But Griffin hadn’t been able to get past this new information. “This place is yours,” he repeated. “The Rio Vista Inn is Lyndie Anderson’s.”

“Yes,” Rosa said, tapping her foot to the music, swiveling her hips. “She is so beautiful, inside and out. You think?”

Lyndie set down her drink and shot a wry glance at Rosa. “Okay, you. Stop.”

“Stop what?” Rosa lifted her hands in innocence. “I am just standing here.”

“Yeah, you’re just standing there. I’m on to you.” Lyndie pointed a finger at her. “And it’s not going to work. Griffin and I are grown-ups. We don’t need you interfering in our lives.”

“Yes, well, if you would get on with your own life, I would not be forced to interfere.”

Lyndie let out a helpless laugh, then looked around her, at the people partying, celebrating, so happy and full of life. “I need some fresh air.”

“Fresher than this?” Griffin shook his head. “You’re not going to get it until the fire is all the way out.”

“Then I need space.” She’d made it through the courtyard and out the side door before she realized he followed her.

“Maybe I needed space, too.” He leaned against a tree and took a long pull of his beer, watching her over the bottle. He licked a drop off his upper lip, probably without a clue that she’d been yearning to do just that with her tongue.

“So,” he said. “This air any fresher than in the courtyard?”

“Rosa’s matchmaking.”

“Matchmaking. You mean…you and me?”

Lyndie had to laugh at his surprise. “You’re not that clueless.” She laughed again at his blank expression. “I guess you are. It’s ridiculous, right? I mean, the two of us—” She swallowed her words at the heat that came into his eyes. “We…” She drew a breath. “We don’t have a chance in hell. Not a single one.”

He just looked at her.

“Do we?” she whispered with a horrifyingly needy voice.

“Lyndie—”

“Look, I don’t even want a chance,” she assured him, her heart pitter-pattering with the first lie she could remember uttering. “All I want is a good night’s sleep before tomorrow’s action. Night.” Whirling, she made her way back into the kitchen and managed to get upstairs and into her bedroom without being interrupted.

Somehow Lucifer followed her. Maybe he thought he was a dog, she didn’t know, but he climbed up the blanket to the top of the bed. His eyes glowed like the very devil in the light as he waited to be petted.

“Sorry,” she said, anything but. “You should have latched on to someone who cared.”

Lucifer blinked, and, feeling like a jerk, she moved closer to pet him. “All right, I care. Damn it. But only a little.”

The windows rattled with the laughter and music below, but she figured she was just exhausted enough that nothing could keep her awake. She flopped to the mattress to begin the pity party she didn’t want.

As she did, her bedroom door opened, then slammed shut.

Griffin stood there in his dark jeans and dark T-shirt and matching dark expression. “It’s not that I don’t want a chance,” he said grimly. “It’s that I don’t know how to…I don’t—” He shoved his fingers through his hair, looking uncharacteristically flustered and frustrated. “Ah, hell.”

She sat up. “Griffin—”

“No, let me say this.”

But he stalked to the window and leaned on the sill, dropping his forehead to the glass as he looked out at the night. There wasn’t much to see with the low, sliver of a moon nearly covered by the long, drifting fingers of smoke.

But whatever he saw, his broad shoulders seemed to carry the weight of the world. “I lost a lot in that last fire.”

“I know.” Her entire heart softened. “Griffin, I know.” It seemed she could feel her heart cracking in two. How was it possible to want to ease his pain with every fiber of her being?

He closed his eyes, then turned and looked at her. “I lost my nerve.”

She got off the bed. “Maybe temporarily. Anyone would have.”

“And yet today I managed just fine.”

“Because you’re adapting.”

“I hated it. I felt ashamed at my ability to forget, so much so that I forced myself to remember Idaho just to torture myself. All the way back here tonight, I felt so hollow and destroyed, I just wanted to go far away. Anywhere.”

Helpless against the pull of the emotion coming off him in waves, her feet brought her to him.

“I didn’t think I’d ever do this again,” he said softly. “Fight a fire, or—”

“Or?”

“Look at a woman.” He wrapped his fingers around her hips, drawing her close, then buried his face in the crook of her neck. “When I lost my friends, my comrades, in that fire, I thought I’d never want another person in my life again.” Destroyed, he lifted his face. “But I’m looking at you, Lyndie.”

Her breath caught.

“I want you,” he whispered and pulled her flush against him, his hands spread wide on her back as if he needed to touch as much of her as possible. “I tried to ignore it, I tried to fight it, but I can’t. I want you so much, I can’t do anything else.”

Holding his gaze in hers, she backed to the door.

Locked one of the few doors that actually locked in the place.

The click sounded extraordinarily loud in the room, a sound that managed to compete with the music and laughter and talking from below.

There was no need to come forward again to reach for him, he’d never let her out of his grip.

“I want you right back,” she said, and then they were kissing, stumbling back against the door for leverage as their hands fought for purchase, their bodies strained against each other, their mouths melded together as one.

L
ike the rest of Lyndie’s world, there was nothing simple in their kiss. But for someone who hadn’t so much as kissed another woman in a year, Lyndie decided Griffin seemed to remember just fine what to do and how to do it, so much so that her bones seemed to melt away. His fingers tightened against her scalp, holding her still for his plunging kisses.

As if she wanted to be anywhere but right here pressed between a hard wood door and an even harder, fiercely aroused Griffin. She arched even closer and was rewarded with the hoarse sound of his groan.

Freeing his mouth to suck in some air, he buried his face in her hair. “God. I don’t even know if I can do this.” His arms banded tightly around her, so tightly she could feel him quiver with passion, with fear, with so many things, but she was feeling just as shaky herself.

“It’s like getting on a bike,” she promised, and bit his throat gently before soothing it with a lick of her tongue.

That ripped another groan from deep in his throat, one that mingled with a reluctant laugh. “Lyndie…I’m serious.”

Since she could feel the proof of his wanting pressing into her, she kissed his throat again. “You seem to be quite serious, and also in working order.”

“Mechanically, yeah, I can hardly see straight with all the blood loss for parts south. But—”

“No buts.” Cupping his face, she smiled at him over her own ache and yearning. “That’s all we need here, Griffin, working mechanical parts.”

He stared into her eyes, his own filled with so much she couldn’t take it.

“This is about the here and now, and needing a release,” she said gently. “That’s all.”

“Lyndie—”

“Kiss me again.” She didn’t want to hear why this was a bad idea. There were a million reasons why, but what would be a really bad idea would be stopping. Stopping would kill her. Her body hummed, pulsed, high on the adrenaline and yearning. “Kiss me…”

And he did, oh, God, how he did. His tongue, moist and hot and seductively determined, slid into her mouth again, and she met him with the soft whimper of her own acquiescence. By the time they broke apart for air this time, she was panting for more. “This isn’t ending with just a kiss, damn it.”

“No.
Christ.
I can’t believe how much I want you.” His voice sounded low, thrillingly rough, making her breath catch at the heat in his shimmering baby blues. “I have to touch you.” One big palm stroked up her hip to cup a breast. His thumb rasped over her nipple, already so tight she couldn’t contain her little needy gasp.

“Skin to skin.” She tugged off her own shirt, leaving her in a white sports bra.

He ran his finger over the plain cotton, then the zipper between her breasts, and smiled. “Practical and pragmatic to the end, aren’t you?”

His finger slipped beneath the material and her legs buckled. The small talk, the light, sexy banter, the sheer heat in his eyes was going to kill her. “Always.” All she wanted was the end product now, the few seconds of complete oblivion, and he wasn’t moving fast enough to suit her. To help, she yanked his shirt out of his jeans, then shoved it up his chest, revealing a wedge of his flat, rippled belly that made her mouth water. “Off,” she muttered, and hauled the shirt over his head. “Hurry.”

To ensure he did, she reached for the buttons on his Levi’s and popped them open one at a time. He was a quick man, and quickly got the hang of the idea of stripping.

He started working on her jeans as well. “This is crazy,” he murmured, his mouth dragging hot, wet, openmouthed kisses along her jaw as he unzipped her sports bra.

“Uh huh.” She backed him to the bed, shoving Lucifer off, who leapt to the floor and settled on her discarded top. Lyndie pushed Griffin to the mattress, laughing breathlessly when a breath of surprise shuddered out of him. Still, he managed to tug her down with him, gliding his hands up the backs of her thighs, cupping her butt, squeezing as she fell over his chest.

She held him down and bit his chin.

He let out a groan, and shot her an endearingly crooked grin. “Be kind to me.”

“Oh, trust me, I plan to be very,
very
kind.” She got off the bed long enough to grab a condom out of her bag where she always carried them. Then she climbed back up his long, rugged body and sucked on his earlobe, loving how that seemed to make him melt. Still, he managed to tug off her loosened bra and toss it across the room…

Okay,
now
she was in her comfort zone, and it was a good place to be. Sex. Hot, fast, good. Pushing down her jeans, she scissored her legs, kicking the denim off to the floor, letting out a helpless hum of pleasure when Griffin’s hands dragged her up higher so that he could draw a breast into his mouth.

“Oh, my God.” She held herself up on arms that shook as he licked, sucked, and nibbled at a nipple until she didn’t know if she was coming or going. Settling her legs around his hips, she arched against a most impressive erection and knew exactly where she wanted it to be. Inside her.
Yesterday.
“Now, Griffin. Now.”

“Wait. I want to—” He broke off on a gruff moan when she wrapped a fist around him and stroked.

She couldn’t help it. Seeing him sprawled out beneath her, hard and tanned and tough, feeling his hot, sleek skin over rigid muscles, his long fingers biting into her hips, hearing the raw sound she coaxed from his throat, all combined to have a blinding, intense need surging through her body.

“Slow down,” he begged, slipping a hand between their bodies, cupping her wet heat until she cried out his name, holding on to him for dear life. She didn’t want to slow down, not then, and not when he rasped his thumb over her core, taking her to a place where slowing down was utterly impossible.

She opened the condom, helped him put it on. Then she guided him home. She’d barely sunk down on his long, hard length when he growled, rolling her, tucking her beneath him so that he towered over her, his eyes glittering with desire, intent. “So you don’t want to take our time.” His voice was hoarse and tight. “You have to promise we’ll linger on the next round then.”

Next round? There wasn’t going to be a next round—

But one single powerful stroke put him inside her to the hilt, and they gasped in tandem at the delicious heat as all thoughts scattered from her brain.

“Next time…” He grounded this out, as if he was holding on by a thread. “We take this slow and easy. Deal?”

“No—”

In the middle of a beautifully hard thrust, he went still. She tried to arch up, but his big body held her still. “Deal?” he asked again, softly.

“Fine! Deal! Now do it, damn it.”

“Oh, yeah, I will.” And he began to move, bending low to whisper naughty nothings in her ear, this wild, earthy, sexy man who’d thought he’d forgotten how to do this. She was lost then, lost in the sound of her name on his lips, lost in the feel of him thrusting into her with his powerful body, lost in the heartbreaking way he held her gaze as they both fell over the edge.

As usual, Lyndie woke up sprawled facedown, sideways, across the bed, naked and starving. And alone.

Definitely a smart move on Griffin’s part to leave, she thought. Waking in each other’s arms would have been…Well. She’d never know. And in any case, he might have held her to that lingering Round Two she’d promised him.

Good thing he’d decided against it. Round Two was always overrated.

But waking in his arms?

Even she had to admit, that might just have been perfect. She closed her eyes.

So perfect.

Lifting her head, she glanced at the clock and found Lucifer’s questioning eyes instead.

“Mew,” he said, and moving daintily across the wildly strewn covers, he came close to lightly bat her on the nose.

So she wasn’t alone after all.

She pushed the obnoxious little kitten away, but he only came right back. Settled on her butt. She pushed him away again, and rolled over.

The tenacious kitten came back and sat on her chest this time. He was quite a weight for a little guy, so it was odd that suddenly she felt as if she’d had a weight lifted off. She stared into his feline eyes, that odd little feeling in her chest increasing, blooming, spreading.

“What is it about you?” she whispered, and when he didn’t—couldn’t—answer, sighed. She had a bad feeling it was affection.

Good thing then that it was nearly dawn, and she had a fire to get to. Never one to sit around wishful thinking, she pushed Lucifer aside and reached for her clothes.

When they arrived at the fire, Griffin got out of the Jeep and jumped right into the fray. He supervised refilling of the tanks from the river, the laying out of the hoses, the line digging and clearing, everything, and he did it so automatically it left his brain free for other things.

Things such as last night, and the feel of Lyndie under his hands, his mouth, his body.

But obsessing over that meant he didn’t have the time to feel sick over fighting this fire, didn’t have to relive the horrific memories floating so freely in his head, nothing. He simply worked.

But again, like yesterday, it shamed him that he could have gotten over the Idaho fire at all, that he could move on and be okay, when twelve weren’t. So he stood there and brought back the screams, the heat, the vicious wind, the misguided directions and incorrect weather report from base nearly thirty miles away—and only when his heart had filled with pain, did he nod grimly.

Now
he could face this fire again.

“Where are we at?”

Griffin turned his head and looked into Lyndie’s green eyes. Her easy smile faded at whatever she saw in his. “Hey.” She put her hand on him. “You okay?”

“You ever notice how you only touch me when you think I’m falling apart?”

“You’re too hardheaded to fall apart,” she said, but dropped her hand from his arm. “And what do you call last night? You weren’t falling apart then and I touched you plenty.”

He sighed. Scrubbed a hand over his face. “We’ve got the fire trapped between the river, and the rock, and the firebreaks we created. Town is safe enough. But that up above…” He pointed out the cliff above them. “I don’t think it’s stable. We need to get up above it, fuse all the vegetation between the rock and the flames. That’s when we’ll have it nailed.”

If the weather conditions remained right.

If the crew wasn’t too exhausted from the ongoing battle, not to mention last night’s fiesta.

If they weren’t thinking about something else, like their families, or what they’d had or not had for lunch.

If, if, if…

So many variables, and on a job like this, even one thing off could make or break them.

As he knew all too well.

Oh yeah,
there
was that sharp stab of pain. He hadn’t forgotten. Good. He didn’t have to force himself to relive it, it was still right there. And though there were still many dangers, this fire would not end in tragedy as his last had. Not if he had breath left in his body. “I’m going to climb up there and see how much growth is beyond that rock. See if you can get Hector and a few others to walk the south, west, and east perimeters to check on them.”

“Will do.” Lyndie watched him stride away, a funny feeling in the pit of her gut. She had a bad feeling it was fear, which made no sense. This was good. They had this thing under control.

But soon as she contacted Hector, Tom ran up to her, huffing and sweating. “Just got back with more men…on the way up here we caught a weather report…” He bent over his knees and dragged air into his lungs. “Heavy winds forecasted, leading into dry thunderstorms…”

Which meant lightning, and more wind without moisture.
“Damn it.”
She glanced at Griffin climbing the mountain directly ahead of her, already reaching for her radio to fill him in, but it squawked first. She brought it up to her ears just in time to hear Sergio say that he was already on the northeastern edge with a crew of fifteen men. Hearing that, she called Griffin. From above, high on the rock, she watched him pick up his radio and turn to look at her.

“Bad news, good news,” she said. “Bad first: Tom said dry thunderstorms are on their way. Good news: You have a group of men who made it to the base of that northeastern canyon directly to your right, they’re between the river and the wall of rock. They’re above the fire. Repeat, they’re already above the fire. They have fuses on them, just tell me what to tell them.”

She watched him go stiff. And even though she couldn’t see his eyes, she knew they were chilled and right on her. “Lyndie,” he said. “They’re right above the canyon next to me?”

“Yes,” she verified.

“Get them out of there.”

Next to her, Tom nodded. “Tell him they’ll be out of there as soon as they check on the perimeters…”

Lyndie repeated that for Griffin.

“No.” His voice sounded hoarse.
Terrified.
“Tell them to get out of there. Tell them now—”

The radio died.

“Griffin?” Lyndie banged the radio against her thigh and tried again. “Griffin?”

Her batteries had died. “Tom—”

“Got it.” He slapped his pockets for more batteries, came up empty-handed. “Shit, I gave away my extras earlier.”

And Griffin had
her
extras.

She could see him up there, suddenly and furiously on the move, going sideways across the rock now instead of up. He was moving…directly toward the crew she’d just told him about.

She glanced at Tom, who had shielded his eyes and was watching Griffin. “What’s he doing?”

“I don’t know…it looks like maybe he’s trying to get to where the crew is…though that’s got to be a difficult climb from there—”

She could see the glint of the hard hats of the crew now, to the right of Griffin and down a bit.

And then below them, the northern front of the fire.

The wind whipped around them suddenly, and though they were a good twenty yards from the flames, and on the other side of the fire line they’d dug, the heat made her skin feel tight. Her eyes, already tortured by the smoke and dust, watered, and her lungs burned. “What’s happening?”